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A SHERBURNE ROMANCE 


THE SHERBURNE SERIES/ 

SHERBURNE HOUSE. 
LYNDELL SHERBURNE. 
SHERBURNE COUSINS. 

A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

V 

By Amanda M. Douglas. 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE 


BV 

AMANDA M. DOUGLAS 

AUTHOR OF “ SHERBURNE HOUSE,” “ LYNDELL SHERBURNE,” 
“ SHERBURNE COUSINS,” “ LARRY,” “ IN WILD 
ROSE TIME,” ETC. 




NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY- 

189s 




Copyright, 1895, 

BY 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. 


All rights reserved. 


THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
RAHWAY, N. J. 


GRACE ADELLE WILLIS. 

THAT THE PROMISE OF GIRLHOOD MAY UNFOLD AND RIPEN 
INTO SERENE AND HAPPY 
WOMANHOOD IS THE WISH OF HER FRIEND, 

The Author. 


Newark^ N. J., 1895 




\ 


1 

J 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I. 

A Long Deferred Meeting, 


PAGE 

I 

II. 

Was it Duty? 


i6 

III. 

Gathering Fragments, 

. 

• 32 

IV. 

Between, .... 

. 

49 

V. 

Out of Her Loyalty, 

. 

. 62 

VI. 

“And Ye Sale Walk in Silk 

Attire,” 

80 

VII. 

A Real Lover, . 

• 

• 97 

VIII. 

Pain and Pleasantness, 

. 

. 115 

IX. 

The Enchantment of Youth, 

. 

. 133 

X. 

A Confidence, 

• • 

. 152 

XI. 

The Flight of a Birdling, 


. 169 

XII. 

After the Wedding Bells, . 


. 188 

XIII. 

In the Shade, . 

• . * 

. 205 

XIV. 

To-day and To-morrow, 

• 

225 

XV. 

Kinsfolk and Friends, 

• 

. 244 

XVI. 

A Lover’s Confession, . 

. 

263 

XVII. 

Complications, . 

• 

. 280 

XVIII. 

“You Will Have Me,” 

« • 

. 291 

XIX. 

Coming into Her Kingdom, 

* • 

. 311 

XX. 

What Dreams May Bring, . 

. 

. 330 

XXI. 

Lord of Herself, 

. 

• 347 

XXII. 

“And Having Nothing, Yet Has All,” 

. 363 

XXIII. 

A Golden Summer, . 

. 

. 384 

XXIV. 

The Mistress of Sherburne 

House, . 

. 402 


vii 


/ 




A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


CHAPTER I. 

A LONG DEFERRED MEETING. 

T he opera was “Siegfried.” It was half through 
when Leonard Beaiimanoir entered the well-filled 
house and walked slowly down the outside aisle. 
Some of the groups he passed turned a curious glance 
upon him. His fine figure and imperious face im- 
pelled attention as he ran his eyes over the elegant 
assemblage in a slow, scrutinizing manner. Down 
one row and up another, quite regardless of the 
magnificent Briinnhilde . Across on the other side 
he espied the party of his search. He might not 
have instantly recognized the large, fair, middle-aged 
man with the coloring of health and energy in his 
face, but surely there was Mrs. Fanshawe, and the 
proud, erect girl, with the spirited face full of intense 
interest, was his cousin Dell Sherburne. 

The certainty somehow ruffled his whole frame, 
mentally and physically, as a gust of wind stirs a 
hitherto tranquil lake. He had not exchanged a 
word with her since the night of the broken engage- 
ment six months before. He had settled to the fact 
that they would meet some time when the bitterness 
had grown cold, and he would make a new proffer 
that would bring about a different decision. By it 


2 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


he would be rehabilitated in his own esteem. He had 
schooled himself to a good deal of patient endeavor, 
but still kept alive a flame of indignation at her child- 
ish injustice. 

What was this peculiar power of hers? Standing 
here with his eyes fixed on her eager, intent face, 
unconscious of all save the music, he did not feel so 
firmly intrenched in the right as he had even half an 
hour ago. 

The face be.side her, looking out of a fluff of hair 
neither light nor dark, but with a soft cloudiness that 
framed in its delicacy and daintiness, attracted him 
curiously. It was full of soft curves, of peace and 
gentleness, a certain subtle harmony. The profile, 
when she turned a little, was pure enough for a carv- 
ing. The lips had just a touch of fullness in the 
middle, but you could almost see the tremor of emo- 
tion in them. There was no self-consciousness. She 
did not even seem aware that other eyes were fixed on 
her with any sense of admiration. When the scene 
ended she glanced about in an innocent fashion and 
said something to Dell, with a quiver of- the lip and a 
soft mistiness of the eyes that made her fascinating. 

“That must be Tessy,” Leonard said in his thought, 
recalling the sweet child face that had bent over him 
with such solicitude when he was lying helpless and 
despondent after his accident, and the Murrays had 
first been admitted within the sacred precincts of Sher- 
burne House. “How beautiful she is — no, that is not 
the word, either. There ought to be a new one coined 
to meet her case,” and he smiled. 

Then he felt a little vexed that any woman should 
appeal to him in that manner. He let his eyes 
wander about the audience. There was no lack of 


A LONG DEFERRED MEETING. 


3 


beautiful women — or was it the exquisite dressing, the 
silks and laces, the plumes waving with the slightest 
stir, and the dainty opera cloaks ? 

He was lucky to find them so easily. He picked 
his way around to the other side while the orchestra 
was playing, but he would not disturb them with his 
errand, or run the risk of a seeming impertinence to 
his Cousin Lyndell. Indeed, in the last magnificent 
act he almost lost sight of them himself. 

He stood quite still when the performance had 
ended. They were going out at the other end of the 
row, he observed. He followed the throng to inter- 
cept them in the lobby. Mr. Murray had Dell; Mrs. 
Fanshawe followed close behind with Tessy, who 
looked like a little white nun in her furry cloak. 

“Oh!” Dell uttered a sudden exclamation as she 
came face to face with her cousin, and a scarlet flush 
mounted to her brow. 

“Mr. Murray,” putting out his hand, and for the 
moment forgetting his severe dignity as he half smiled 
toward Lyndell, “pardon my surprising you in this 
manner. I had a message for my cousin, and calling 
at your house learned you were here.” 

“Aunt Aurelia?” Dell’s voice was breathless with 
sudden alarm. 

“Aunt Aurelia, Aunt Julia, and all at Beaumanoir 
are well,” he hastened to say. Then he shook hands 
with Mrs. Fanshawe and reached over to Tessy. 

“You see I have not forgotten you,” smilingly. 
“You have not grown out of remembrance, but you 
ought to be polite enough to admit that I have. I 
hope I have improved since the time that an invalid’s 
couch was my only home.” 

“You have only made a change from illness to 


4 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


health. I should have known you,” and the sweet 
curve of the lips was a half smile. 

The voice was what one might expect, but it had 
a trained, softened sound, while it was distinct, 
individualized. 

“Oh,” said Dell, recovering herself,. “I was so 
afraid' ” 

They emerged into the main entrance, but she 
stood curiously uncertain. 

‘ T am commissioned to bring you home,” he began, 
in explanation. “And I am the bearer of sad tidings. 
Uncle Lepage went to his last rest yesterday. It was not 
unexpected, for Aunt Edith was sent for on Saturday.” 

“Come home with us, and you can arrange with your 
cousin. The carriage is waiting, no doubt,” said the 
elder man. 

They soon found it. Mr. Murray put Leonard 
inside with the ladies. 

“Poor Uncle Lepage! ” Lyndell said softly. “I did 
not know he was worse.” 

“He had a third stroke last Friday evening, though 
he had seemed unusually bright for some days, but 
Ur. Carew thought the end could not be far off. 
Aunt Edith was summoned, but he never recovered 
consciousness. They were to come up to Washington 
to-day. The funeral will be on Saturday.” 

The elders had all known what the end must be. 
Yet, to the young, death is always a surprise. 

“Gifford ” she began slowly. 

“Gifford has been a great comfort to his father, to 
them all. He certainly has redeemed himself. Aunt 
Aurelia has grown very fond of him. But he looks 
worn and tired out.” 

Dell gave a little thanksgiving in her heart. She 


A LONG DEFERRED MEETING. 5 

had given him many an earnest thought and prayer 
these intervening weeks. 

It seemed curious to be sitting beside Leonard in 
this manner; unmoved, in a certain sense, so far as her 
personality was concerned. She was neither indignant 
nor regretful; nay, there was a sense of satisfied 
friendliness. She had dreaded a meeting so much 
and fortified herself with certain lines of what she 
considered justice. They were all swept away. She 
could think him greatly in the wrong, but she could 
not be angry; so much does time soften all our 
asperities. 

Mrs. Fanshawe made a little general conversation. 
They could not dismiss the AVonderful music and 
acting from their minds in a moment; it had moved 
them so deeply. 

“I confess I shall never rest until I hear it all the 
way through,” Leonard said. ‘‘In fact, one should 
hear the whole trilogy. Did you go to ‘Lohengrin’?” 
he asked, with interest. 

‘‘We made ourselves almost ill over it,” replied 
Lyndell. ‘‘Tessy sings some of the songs.” 

Tessy flushed and raised her eyes deprecatingly. 
How curiously sweet she was, affecting one’s senses 
like a delicate perfume! 

He handed her out last and walked up the steps 
with her. She paused a moment to say good-night, 
and seemed to vanish like a dainty sprite. He and 
Dell entered the reception room, where he explained 
the particulars of his errand. The ladies were to 
come up to Washington, and she was to meet them. 
The funeral would be on Saturday. Could she go in 
the train that left at eight? 

Mr. Murray would fain have kept his guest all night. 


6 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


but Leonard had his room at the hotel. And as it 
was late, he bade them adieu. 

“You must go to bed at once,” said Mrs. Fanshawe. 
“I will pack a satchel for you, and if you stay, your 
trunk can be sent to you. But we are all selfish 
enough to want you back.” 

Dell smiled gratefully and went to her room, paus- 
ing for a few last words with Tessy. 

‘ ‘You are not very angry with him, are you?” asked 
Tessy, in a pleading tone. 

“Not half as angry as I expected to be. I am 
afraid I shall get to liking him too well again, forgive 
him too easily. I don’t mean that the old idea can 
ever come back,” and the scarlet flew up to her brow. 
“I can never play at love again ; it is too sacred. But 
it seems very hard to be ill friends with anyone. Per- 
haps Leonard and I are doomed never to get on very 
well together.” 

“But you will be friends?” 

“Oh, you teasing little darling! You are wanting 
a perpetual Christmastide: ‘Peace on earth, good will 
to men.’ You were always the peacemaker in our 
childhood. I will promise to do my best, for friend- 
ship’s sake. There, good-night, or Mrs. Fanshawe 
will come and scold me.” 

But Lyndell could not go to sleep at once. She 
kept thinking over the past summer and autumn. She 
had not been lonely with the doctor and her dear Miss 
Neale, and Uncle Beaumanoir, who thoroughly under- 
stood her unfortunate episode with Leonard ; and 
much as he had desired the fruition of his hopes, he 
knew it had not been Lyndell’ s time to love. Every 
day she grew more sacred to him. 

Aunt Julia had insisted upon this visit to the Mur- 


A LONG DEFERRED MEETING. 


7 


rays, when they heard Mrs. Fanshawe was with them 
as chaperon and companion. 

. Mr. Murray had gone abroad in the early summer 
with Con and Tessy. Democratic as Con was, he 
had developed a little race pride, and was satisfied 
when he found his father’s people could go back to 
old Jacobin stock on the one side, and many native 
patriotic ancestors on the other. There certainly was 
nothing to be ashamed of. His father’s only brother 
had gone out to India in the ranks, but was now cap- 
tain of quite a famous company. Both sisters were 
dead. 

“I’m glad they’ve all been clean, honorable 
people!’’ exclaimed Con. “I’m thankful there are 
no old skeletons to fly out of our closet doors when 
other people open them.’’ 

“We must see that we shut in none ourselves, my 
boy,’’ his father made answer. 

In London Miss Ashton had taken possession of 
them all with her genial hospitality. Con was going 
over to a German university for a year. Tessy was to 
return with some school friends in November, but 
Miss Ashton begged hard for a longer stay. 

But it was Mrs. Murray who had met Mrs. Fan- 
shawe, and there had been a mutual attraction when 
they began to talk of Dell Sherburne. And though 
Mrs. Murray knew very little of society demands, and 
was almost frightened to think of her husband as a 
rich man, and her children growing up under such 
different auspices, she longed for some friend or con- 
nection who would understand the proper usages. 
Mr. Murray’s wide business experience, and the natu- 
ral capacities that make nature’s noblemen, — honor, 
uprightness, and the courtesy of a kindly heart, — 


8 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


enabled him to thread his way through new paths with 
hardly a thought of discomfort. Tessy possessed the 
same rare quality. She had always been “a little 
lady.” 

Mrs. Fanshawe accepted the position as much 
because she was really won by Mrs. Murray as by the 
excellent offer. The Murrays were making no bid for 
an enfr/e into fashionable society, but Con’s friends 
were enthusiastic about him and his surroundings, and 
Tessy had quite a circle of acquaintances. But she 
needed the indefinable protection of a chaperon. 

Her letters had been a source of delight to Dell, 
who read them aloud. And when Tessy begged for 
a visit in which they might “talk over everything,” 
Dell looked up wistfully to Aunt Jue. 

“We must let her go,” she said to Aunt Aurelia, 
with a little gentle decision. “Dr. Carew thinks 
Warren cannot possibly last through the winter. Such 
an incident would shadow Lyndell’s memories of her 
home, and yet there seems no other place where 
Warren would feel so comfortable. He would shrink 
from any change. Then, too, the expense would be 
considerable. We shall not be able to have any 
Christmas festivities.” 

“No,” assented Aunt Aurelia. 

“Lyndell’s youth will pass all too rapidly. She can 
never have quite such a time of exuberant delight. 
And the other girls seem so engrossed.” 

It was true. Violet had her lover, and Mrs. Long- 
worth was inviting her to Washington gayeties. Alice 
was under her sister’s wing, and allowed only the 
merest flying visits to see her father. Mrs. Lepage 
flitted back and forth, declaring herself so much 
needed at Ethel’s. 


A LONG DEFERRED MEETING. 


9 


“If I could do anything for Warren,” she would 
say plaintively. “But Jasper is the best of nurses, 
and is needed to lift poor Warren. Gifford is at hand 
to read to him and talk. Somehow Gifford always 
knows what to say to his father. And I never was of 
the slightest account in a sick room. To sit and 
watch Warren day after day would drive me dis- 
tracted. Someone must be in Washington to see 
about all the unfortunate business. Alice and Flor- 
ence do need my oversight. I never thought I should 
have to go through such seas of trouble.” 

Aunt Aurelia used to listen with a curious wonder 
that anyone could be so blinded in herself. Perhaps 
she was the more gentle, thinking of her own mis- 
takes. And they were much more at ease when Mrs. 
Lepage was away. Even her husband seemed relieved. 
But Aunt Aurelia had an old-fashioned ideal of wifely 
devotion that was quite shocked by this indifference. 

Gifford was growing strangely dear to her. He 
and Dell found many simple pleasures. She laugh- 
ingly gave him “a part of her dear doctor,” who was 
a most comforting friend, and strengthened him to 
take up life in a true and earnest manner. 

“If I could only blot out last year!” Gifford would 
sigh. ‘ Tt haunts me.” 

“You cannot blot it out. That will only be done 
the last day. But you can gather so much good fruit 
on the other side that it will be quite overshadowed. 
You are not to look at it, save as a warning in times of 
temptation. And think of the comfort you have been 
to your father. ” 

“I am glad be never knew the worst. And I shall 
be grateful to Dell to the latest day of my life. I 
owe my redemption to her.” 


10 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

Aunt Aurelia was very fond of having the young 
people about her. She consented reluctantly, but if 
Dell had known the real struggle she would have 
relinquished her desire at once. 

Perhaps it would be wisest for her to go now. 
Aunt Aurelia appreciated the point Mrs. Stanwood 
made. Mrs. Fanshawe was there to watch over Dell, 
and that laughing, delightful, dangerous Con was out 
of the way. 

And so Dell had gone for the holidays, and was sur- 
prised and gratified beyond measure. 

“You are all so oddly changed,” she said that first 
evening. “Even Mamma Murray is transformed into 
a society lady, and Tessy seems always to have lived 

011 the topmost round of elegance!” 

“Oh, no, no,” laughed Mrs. Murray, with an 
unwonted pink in her cheeks. “I shall always be a 
simple body, wondering how people come to like me 
so well. For I can’t pretend.” 

“That’s the very charm. You have such a lovely 
heart, and you want everyone to be so happy. You 
give of your abundance, just as you used to give of 
the dear old home. And how people used to come 
and sit under the apple tree, and delight in the 
flowers you gave them, and the welcome! When you 
forget a moment and say ‘alanna,’ you are simply 
irresistible,” the girl declared enthusiastically. 

“But I’m trying not to, for the children’s sake. It 
is as their father says : they are growing up in a differ- 
ent atmosphere. And we want them to fill their 
places just as naturally as we filled ours. I under- 
stand so many things, dear, and it has softened me so 
to Miss Sherburne and all that old time. Then Con 
found her so much nicer than he had any idea. 


A LONG DEFERRED MEETING. 


II 


Alanna, I’ve thanked God many a time for his good- 
ness in letting us all see the right way.” 

‘‘And she has changed too. She is a lovely old 
lady. She will always be grand, she is so tall and 
stately; but I never feel afraid of her now. And she 
is really interested in that earlier life, only I can see 
she thinks it a great pity that I couldn’t have come to 
them at first. But I wouldn’t give up the remem- 
brance of those happy years with you for all the 
sorrow that came afterward. Only,” and Dell 
laughed, “are you quite sure you didn’t persuade 
Oberon to bring you some of the juice of his magic 
flower and make changelings of us? For Tessy is the 
kind of girl Aunt Aurelia would have delighted in. 
A girl who can make lace and embroider, and do 
dozens of pretty things, and always look calm and 
sweet. I sometimes feel as if I had been the wild 
Irish girl.” 

‘‘But you’re very pretty and ladylike. And they 
say you do favor your father’s people. I am glad of 
.that. But your own mamma must have been a picture 
when she was well, with all that beautiful golden hair.” 

Dell might readily be forgiven her pride in her 
friends. They had never been of the vulgar or osten- 
tatious sort, and now there was no pushing for place 
or station. Their simplicity was like high breeding. 

Jamsie was a fine lad past sixteen, who had devel- 
oped quite a remarkable genius for architecture, and 
had settled upon that as his profession. Morna was 
already as tall as Tessy, and lily fair with luxuriant 
golden hair. They grew so fast that, if it had not 
been for baby Densie, the little mother would have 
felt lost and bewildered. 

Dell’s Christmas was one of unalloyed gratification. 


12 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Mr. Whittingham sent her a generous allowance and 
a letter that brought tears to her eyes. She and 
Tessy haunted shops and picture stores. Miss 
Neale’s poor had a Santa Claus dispensation showered 
upon them. The servants at Sherburne House, the 
friends she had made at the “quarters,” reveled in the 
generosity of their young mistress, who seemed to 
know just what everyone wanted. And when it came 
to cousins and friends, she stood a little appalled at 
her own extravagance. “I know how, Fortu- 

natus felt,” she said with along breath pf delight, as 
she came to the end of her list. ‘T’ve had a glorious 
time, but I may never do quite the same thing again. 
I remember my Cousin Millicent saying that when 
gifts became obligatory the charm ceased.^ I don’t 
want ever to feel that I am compelled to give, but icr 
give for the pure love of it.” 

There was one little series of events that were not 
as satisfactory. This was with Anita Garcia. Her 
letters to Dell were queer compounds. At first she 
had cared for nothing but music and poetry and 
studying Italian. She had not seemed to long for the 
promised visit from Lyndell ; and preferred to spend 
the holidays at school. Mrs. Weir’s account was not 
unsatisfactory — on the whole; still she confessed 
that she scarcely understood her. 

But the romance Dell had invested her with was 
sometimes rudely rent by a strain of what seemed like 
hardness in the girl’s nature. She was content to 
stay, she practiced her music with the utmost perse- 
verance ; she accepted favors as p;ierely business, 
when Dell would have been delighted" with the slightest 
longing for affection. And yet she had loved Leonard 
with such perfect devotion ! 


A LONG DEFERRED MEETING. 13 

There had been another rift of gratification through 
this time. This was the occasional calls of Bertram 
Carew, who appeared very much at home with the 
Murrays. He and Tessy had numerous consultations 
about invalids who seemed a little outside of the ordi- 
nary channel. Tessy had a curious discrimination 
and aptitude for this kind of work. 

Christmas he had kept with his father, and brought 
back a budget of news from them all. 

“I almost persuaded Millicent to come up and join 
you,” he said, with an arch sort of smile. ‘T do sup- 
pose she would be dreadfully missed at home, but 
the sphe/e is too restricted for her, and she has some 
tender conscientiousness on the subject. She has 
such an exquisite, comprehensive soul. There must 
be a grand work for her. I don’t know but my ideas 
of women’s possibilities would startle Aunt Neale and 
father.” 

Was Millicent really his ideal? She felt almost 
guilty to have enjoyed so much with him, especially at 
operas, as if she might be taking what belonged to 
someone else. 

She was a little pricked in her conscience about 
staying. But she wrote that if anybody missed or 
needed her she would return gladly. Millicent was 
filling her place. Her bright, chatty epistles were a 
great comfort to Gifford. How very happy she was! 

“Yes,” said Aunt Jue. ‘T want her to have some 
good times to look back upon. It is not always 
youth.” 

And as Lyndell lay there in the darkness she was 
shocked that someone she had known and really cared 
for should go out of life, while she was in the very 
center of delight. She could not have done anything 


14 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


better for him, and there was Gifford’s tender care and 
love. But it seemed sad that more of his children 
should not have solaced his last days with their affec- 
tion. It was a fruitless life, after all. She could not 
feel quite satisfied with the ending. Indeed the whole 
of it seemed barren of results. 

Was there not some greater sacredness about the 
gift of life than the getting of money and the restless 
strife for pleasure? Had Aunt Edith ever been really 
happy, she wondered. 

Her slumbers were light and broken, and she 
responded to the rather early call. Mamma Murray, 
sweet and sympathetic, had a dainty breakfast for 
her. 

The first mail brought her a letter from Aunt Julia, 
detailing the occurrences of the last few days, and the 
peaceful ending of what was only a partial life and 
held no hope of recovery ; of Gifford’s devotion and 
his grief. The funeral would be in Washington, and 
some arrangements would be made for her return. 

The good-bys were brief and unfinished. They all 
hoped to see her soon again. Leonard was grave and 
solicitous for her comfort. The morning was cold 
and gray, and everybody seemed in much the same 
mood, to judge from their faces. But the drawing- 
room coach was warm, and the chair easy. Leonard 
brought her some papers, and settled himself to the 
morning news. There were not many passengers, and 
they had a corner quite to themselves. Dell looked 
out of the window at the cheerless landscape as they 
went flying along. It seemed to her that it would be 
less hard to die in winter. 

She glanced furtively at her cousin. His face had 
taken on a more manly earnestness and strength. 


A LONG DEFERRED MEETING. 


15 


Yes, he was very handsome, certainly. Bertram’s 
could not compare with it, and yet she liked that the 
best. 

“I hope you were not unduly alarmed last night,” 
he began, in a kindly tone. “Aunt Julia requested 
me to come ” as if half in apology. 

“I think a telegram would have startled me more. 
I had a letter from her this morning, in which she 
spoke of the arrangement.” 

He folded his paper and gave her a slow, deliberate 
glance that brought the warm blood to her face. 
Then he wheeled his chair around. No one was near. 
He could talk without fear of being observed. 

“Lyndell,” he began, “I suppose sometime we 
shall fall again into the habit of meeting; of being 
cousins, if not friends. I came up to New York a 
fortnight ago, and it seemed strange indeed to make 
no sign.” 

“I ” Would she have been glad to see him? 

No, she could not say that. Yet she was glad to 
have the ice of the long silence broken. 

“There is something I must say to you ” 

“We will be friends,” she interrupted hurriedly. 

“But even then something needs to be said.” 

She glanced up with a sort of frightened depreca- 
tion, and her lips moved as if to entreat his silence. 


CHAPTER II. 


WAS IT DUTY? 

“TT must be said,” he began imperatively. ‘T shall 
1 have to admit that I was very angry when we 
parted. I intended to see you again, but second 
thoughts prevented. Perhaps it was quite as well. 
Six months ought to restore the equilibrium of one’s 
mind. The friendship that grew up between us in 
that great crisis of my life should have brought forth 
better fruit. And it must not end this way.” 

“It has not really ended.” Dell tried to steady her 
voice, which would tremble. 

‘T am "glad to have you say that. When one goes 
over any episode dispassionately, months afterward, 
one may come to a sense of right and duty, however 
distasteful at first. I want your esteem. You are 
very dear to all of them at Beaumanoir. I am not 
willing to be the only exile.” 

His whole demeanor touched her. How had she 
withstood him that summer night? 

”1 resolved upon this step some time ago, but I felt 
I had no right to take it without consulting you.” 

There was an appeal in his hesitating tone. He 
resumed without waiting for an answer: 

‘T heard of your plans for Miss Garcia. Father 
and I had discussed something of the kind, trusting 
her to Dr. Carew’s guardianship. Your offer was 
most generous.” 


JVAS IT DUTY? 


17 


“But I had so much, and she was so friendless “ 

“I wonder” — rather annoyed — “if all your interest 
centers in her? Do you not care to know the result 
of my reconsideration?” 

He was piqued by her quietude. She did not really 
understand it any better than he; but she seemed 
vaguely fortifying herself from some apprehended 
danger. Her affection for him still confused her. 
She had made a pleasant duty for herself in loving 
him, but with the rude awakening had come a recoil. 
Time had softened even that, she found. If he had 
besieged her with importunities she could have kept a 
firm front. Was she really wavering? How to give 
just the right measure on this new threshold puzzled 
her. For oh, she could not begin over again! 

“Yes, I do,” she made answer, summoning her 
courage, but not raising her eyes; setting her heart 
steadfastly. 

“If I was to blame inadvertently, I have manliness 
enough to make amends. I have resolved to ask 
Miss Garcia to marry me.” 

“Oh, no, no;” she cried, roused to the utmost, for 
she had not suspected this. “Oh, do not!” 

Was there some latent tenderness in her heart for 
him? What if she had loved him better than she 
knew? These months of silence had left her so com- 
pletely to her own communings. She had all the 
incidents of their trip abroad to remember, and she 
could not forget what she had been to him in every 
sense. Her protest gave him a thrill of exultation. 

“Why not?” he asked. “You have all blamed me 
for her share of the mistake.” 

“There are many reasons,” she began hurriedly. 
“You must know — you must feel ” How should 


1 8 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

she word it? “Oh, you do not love her,” she cried, 
with sudden desperation. 

He had gone over the case a good many times in a 
sort of legal way, making himself the client. He was 
much better prepared to argue than she. 

“I did like her. She was a pretty, winsome child, 
with possibilities. Miss Fleming felt the same about 
her. It seemed a pity to have her remain there in 
her ignorance: And I can imagine how, if Miss 
Fleming had taken her, educated and trained her, and 
there had been no one else,” raising his eyes in an 
appealing manner that brought a warm flush to Dell’s 
face, “I might have gone on finding graces and 
charms in her until I was really in love. Many men 
have married in this way. But I was awakened to 
something higher.” 

Dell turned her eyes away. His whole air, his 
voice with the subtle entreaty, moved her more than 
she had thought possible. 

“Believe it or not, Dell; I shouldn’t have written 
to her when I was once away without a thought of 
consequences. But Miss Fleming’s death, her lonely 
despair, and her letter, coming just as it did, roused 
me to sympathy. If I could have put the matter in 
Millicent’s hands — I even think now I could have 
trusted mother to advise. And then she quieted down 
and we fell into a friendly fashion. I never wrote 
her love letters. They were about you all, and I 
know I said a great deal concerning you. After I 
had made up my mind about you, and before I ven- 
tured to speak, I wrote the letter she missed. I said 
in that my plan of life included a marriage with you. 
I want you to believe that I could not have deliber- 
ately wronged either of you,” 


H^AS IT DUTY? 


19 


Lydnell wondered if the sin of carelessness was not as 
bad for the one who suffered as the sin of deliberation. 

“I might learn to love her. I might devote the 
side of my nature not required for business to making 
her happy. Is it an unworthy purpose?” 

She ventured to turn her eyes toward him. Was 
he striving to convince himself? There was an inde- 
finable manliness in every line; a certain new strength, 
beseeching and fascinating. 

“Do you want to love her?” Dell inquired, with a 
quick, palpitant breath. 

*T desire to do what is right. I want to regain 
your respect and friendship. Do you not think we 
give to people the measure and the quality they 
are capable of awakening in us? David Copper field 
loved Dora. Anita would come up to a higher plane 
than Dora. And when a man is loved ” 

Was she to be set over Anita as a kind of Agnes ? 
Was Leonard willfully blinding himself with some 
specious sophistries? 

“When I made this resolve I should have gone to 
her at once, but she seemed sacredly in your care. I 
felt I had no right until I had consulted you. Dell, 
you shall decide.” 

It was a cruel strait. For a moment she felt a hot 
indignation rising within her, and almost wished he 
had gone on his own responsibility. What if in the 
depths of her heart Anita still loved him? What if 
her bravery of contempt had been largely assumed, to 
give her courage? Dell had a suspicion that he could 
go to her and so sue, if he chose, that she would for- 
give the past. Did he mean to do it, or plead his 
cause in a perfunctory manner that would only pain 
Anita and insure a refusal? 


20 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE, 


What would be best for Anita? 

“Oh, what can I say to you? Why not ask your 
father? You have him to think about as well. I am 
afraid nothing but the highest love could make 
amends. If you do love her in that manner ’’ 

“I am not pretending to, now, “ he said impa- 
tiently. “We take up duties because they are right, 
and abide by the consequences. I hope I have honor 
enough to do my best, in whatever I undertook.” 

There was a long silence. Leonard twisted the 
corner of his paper, smoothed it out, and began to 
feel really nervous instead of heroic. It seemed as 
if she was holding the future of Anita Garcia in her 
hands, and they trembled with the burden. What if 
she shut her out of a great joy! For although Dell 
had written kindly, sisterly letters, Anita had not 
responded in sentiment. She chronicled her progress, 
her likes and dislikes; and there was a sort of dutiful, 
instead of loving strain. Was there, after all, no real 
breadth to her nature, no vital warmth? Leonard’s 
wife should be someone who could be taken into the 
family circle and would respond to the touch of rela- 
tionship. Anita could so easily hold herself aloof. 

Leonard meant she should decide the matter. It 
was going to be his test. If her decision was in the 
negative, he would never again question it. Perhaps 
it would indicate a lingering fondness. They had 
been more to each other than ordinary cousins. And 
if it was otherwise — well, he would live up to it hero- 
ically. It would take two or three years to educate 
Anita, for he had no mind to have a sweet, ignorant 
wife. 

There was a romantic side that appealed to him 
now, the generosity of youth. He was not taking it 


PVAS IT DUTY? 


21 


up humbly, to see what lesson could be learned from 
his self-indulgent mistake. He must in some sense 
be a sort of hero to both girls, when their interests 
had been linked together. He had suffered bitterly 
last autumn, but it had been largely mortification and 
the sense of blundering. And though he knew he 
must go against family tradition if he took this step, it 
seemed to ennoble the sacrifice of himself. 

It was such a sacred thing to meddle with a life, to 
make or mar. Dell Sherburne’s good sense told her,, 
just as Dr. Carew had, that Anita Garcia was not the 
wife for Leonard. Was he the husband for her? 
Somewhere Dell remembered to have read that mis- 
takes were permitted for the needful discipline of 
living out of them. But if one did not go blindly into 
the wrong path? Every moment she was more con- 
vinced. 

Unconsciously she raised her eyes. She did not 
know that she answered him. He kept the faintest 
throb under subjection. 

“Am I to go?” he asked, with a lingering inflection. 

“Not with my consent.” 

She felt breathless and frightened. Had she taken 
something sacred out of another life? 

“If I have wronged anyone, do thou, O God, 
restore fourfold,” she prayed softly. 

They stopped at Philadelphia; some new passen- 
gers came in, and he called to a newsboy for another 
paper. Then they settled themselves to silence, 
since someone was sitting directly behind Lyndell. 

Leonard Beaumanoir was not surprised. Her ver- 
dict had corresponded with his inmost belief. In 
spite of his high resolves he would have felt wronged in 
some mysterious manner, if she had consented. He 


22 


A SHERBUIiNE ROMANCE. 


would have gone because he was not a coward, and 
because he wanted her approbation. Then he would 
have left the rest with fate. 

His feelings were very complex toward his cousin. 
He had truly believed, six months ago, that she would 
be the greatest factor in his life. Yet he had worked 
steadily, faithfully, under the spur of chagrin; and 
now he was aware of a conscious power that was not 
love, but ambition. He had been an immense favorite 
with society this winter, and many lovely eyes had 
turned graciously to him. Was she really his ideal? 
She looked extremely picturesque last evening, and 
there was the other picture beside her with the dainty 
refinement in every line and feature, the indescribable 
sweetness that was not weak. How curious that Tessy 
Murray should so have won Aunt Aurelia in that first 
visit! Wouldn’t Dell have her at Sherburne House 
again, next summer, maybe? How she had once 
threatened to have the whole clan there — he almost 
smiled to himself. Yet he liked Dell none the worse for 
her teippers, and surely none the worse for her fidelity. 

If he had shown any special gratification at her 
decision, she would have been humbled beyond 
measure. But his very gentleness seemed to her as if 
he had sacrificed something. She felt it was not love 
for Anita Garcia. 

The Sherburne House inmates, and the Beaumanoirs 
all but Violet, were at the hotel, and gave Dell a fond 
welcome. Little Nora had grown prettier, and sug- 
gested her father strongly. Dell could not help recall- 
ing the time when they had all gone to Millicent’s 
betrothal party and seen Aunt Edith in the glory 
of her new house. How many misfortunes had come 
upon her! 


IVAS IT DUTY? 


23 


“Are you quite sure you did not need me?” Dell 
asked Aunt Aurelia. “It seems almost wrong to have 
had such a delightful time.” 

“Oh, no, my dear! Uncle Warren did miss you at 
first, but his mind failed a good deal. Gifford was 
such a comfort to him, to us all. I don’t know what 
we would have done without him. Your little good 
seed has borne abundant fruit.” 

Dell pressed the soft hand in hers. It was begin- 
ning to show the wrinkles of age. She was so glad to 
give back to Sherburne House any blessing or comfort. 

“We all thought it best for you to be away. The 
burden was really ours, and it would have been selfish 
to lay it on you, when you had taken up others,” Miss 
Sherburne said tenderly. 

They went over in the early evening to call upon 
Ethel and Aunt Edith. 

The house was very handsome, certainly, but its 
grandeur did not now awe Lyndell. The spacious 
hall seemed a bower of ferns and palms with one great 
cluster of calla lilies. Ethel came to receive them. 

She was curiously changed. A tall, self-possessed 
society woman, with quite a regal bearing and impress- 
ive manner; much improved, Dell thought. She 
greeted them with a soft, subdued air; and her 
somber dress trailed about her, suggesting a picture of 
night rather than sorrow. 

“It is so good of you to come! Mamma is quite ill 
in bed, now that the reaction has set in. We had heard 
such good accounts of papa that we had no thought 
but that he would live a few months longer. So it has 
been a great and sudden blow. Oh, Dell, what a 
stranger you are ! I hope the sad summons did not 
interrupt too many of your New York pleasures. 


24 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


When I think how happy we were four years ago 
Christmas, and all the changes since ” 

Ethel put her handkerchief to her eyes. 

Alice entered and came over to Dell. The black 
gown seemed to enhance her fairness, and made her 
look younger. 

“I’m so glad to have you again,” and she clasped 
Dell’s hand with a tense, nervous pressure. “Wasn’t 
it terrible! We had no idea papa was in any real 
danger until the telegram came. And I had not seen 
him for so long. I ought to have been there all 
winter. I shall never forgive myself ! Oh, Dell, do 
you think he missed us very much? I should have 
been glad to care for him, but mamma seemed to 
think so many were in the way. And there was a little 
talk of bringing him up to Washington. I am glad he 
had Gifford. But no one thought the end would 
come so soon.” 

“He had every care,” suggested Dell, longing to 
comfort. Yet the lack of those for whom he had 
toiled was pathetic. 

“But he should have had his own. And to think 
1 have not seen him since in the autumn. There was 
always some reason; something going on, and I 
couldn’t be spared. As if one made any difference 
where there were so many people! And as if people 
really cared for you ! Oh, Dell, I am tired of it all so 
soon! And to think of a life of it! I am afraid I 
wasn’t meant for a fashionable woman. We were so 
happy abroad.” 

“You must come to Sherburne and get rested. You 
are all tired out. How you tremble ! Or perhaps at 
Sherburne ’ ’ 

“I want to go. Do you know, it seems as if we had 


IV^S IT DUTY? 


25 


never cared enough for poor papa! Do you suppose 
he remarked it and felt lonely? I hoped we could 
have a simple little home. But everything seems so 
strange when you are in the whirl, and you must keep 
doing just as the others, whether you like it or not.” 

Gifford came around to them and put his hand softly 
on Dell’s shoulder. Neither of them spoke until the 
others had risen to go. 

“Dear Dell,” he said, “I owe you so much. I 
sometimes wonder if life will be long enough to repay 
you.” 

She glanced up with tears and a smile. 

Warren Lepage had been too well known and too 
much respected, even if he had slipped out of the 
ranks the last year, to lack any of the kindly tokens 
paid to the dead. The church was thronged with 
friends. The heavy purple pall draped the coffin, 
and the last words were said over him reverently: 

“Looking for the general resurrection at the last 
day.” 

Afterward Gilford said to Dell: “I think he came 
to understand some things at the last. Aunt Aurelia 
helped. And I shall look to meet him at that last 
day, not quite empty-handed.” , 

A very quiet Sunday followed, with its Christian 
bells sounding a benediction. Then they began to 
make plans for a return. Dell did not want to go 
back to New York. Gifford was quite ill and 
feverish. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what we are to do!” 
moaned Mrs. Lepage. “Warren’s illness was a 
dreadful blow, and that he should never recover 
enough to take an interest in anything! And all the 
expenses since have been simply frightful.” She did 


26 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


not seem to consider the months at Sherburne House 
and the nursing, for which Aunt Aurelia would hear 
of no recompense. “Mr. Longworth has been doing 
his best, but it is simply a wreck. They are holding 
on to the Western lands, and sometime another rail- 
road may bring them into the market. And there is 
Florence to educate, and Alice to settle, and Gif 
ought to be in business. What will become of 
us?” 

“Come home with us for a while,” proposed Aunt 
Aurelia sympathetically. 

“You are very good, but I couldn’t leave Ethel 
just now. The death came at such a bad time for 
her, poor girl! right in the midst of the season, as one 
may say, with everything planned. This very week 
there was to be a grand dinner to some Western 
Senators. And all Ethel’s lovely wardrobe — two 
elegant Worth gowns, one of which she was to wear 
for the first time, and the other she only wore at the 
French Minister’s dinner. She was magnificent. I 
wish you could have seen her! And Saturday she 
was to help receive at the White House. Mr. Long- 
worth is so proud of her, and generosity itself. But 
we cannot all be a burden on him.” 

“You need not be a burden on anyone.” 

“But there are so many things — you can’t under- 
stand all the minutiae, in your quiet country life. And 
we were looking forward to Alice’s engagement. It 
would not have been a long one, either. It doesn’t do 
for girls to fall out of the ranks nowadays. I didn’t 
hurry them in the beginning, and if we could afford 
it, Alice might take her time, but we can’t now. Oh, 
did you ever think I would be in this plight when 
Warren had been so prosperous!” 


WAS IT DUTY? 


27 


Aunt Aurelia sighed. What comfort could she 
give? The refuge she had sought would be ignored. 

They waited to see how it would fare with Gifford. 
The doctor ordered quiet and rest. And after some 
insistence they took Alice and Gifford back to Sher- 
burne House. 

Ethel Longworth laid away her handsome gowns 
with many a sigh, and looked longingly at the list of^ 
engagements and invitations. The round of pleasures 
had absorbed her completely. She had been a great 
social success, and Alice had proved an attraction as 
well. The plans for her had not quite crystallized, but 
she would have been elated to have Alice marry in 
her first real season at home. Another month, she 
thought, would have brought about this desirable 
engagement. 

To be sure they could go to Florida, but deep 
mourning was depressing, and one must conform to a 
decent seclusion. If the death had occurred a month 
later, when dissipation was on the wane! How hard 
it was ! Of course no one had expected papa to 
recover; it had not even the shock of a sudden ill- 
ness. And now the business misfortunes would have 
to be admitted, in the fact that there really was no 
estate to settle. Mrs. Lepage had a few thousands of 
her own. 

“And there’s Dell with that great fortune that Mr. 
Whittingham and your uncle keep tied up so closely, 
until she is of age. It doesn’t seem as if she ought 
to have everything. I heard Leonard say they had 
leased the coal lands very advantageously, and they 
mean to open some new iron mines. She ought to 
marry Leonard, but Aunt Julia has some foolish 
notions about allowing her the widest latitude in her 


28 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


fancies. And if she should take that Murray young 
man, I don’t know what Aunt Aurelia would do.” 

“The Murray young man would take her away,” 
returned Ethel, with a short laugh. “Aunt Aurelia 
would have the house to herself. But it does seem 
quite unnecessary for Lyndell to have all that money 
when she really cares so little about it. Perhaps she 
will remember her poorer cousins when she comes into 
possession of it. But she has so many wild ideas that 
I look to see her turn Sherburne House into a home 
or a hospital for the scum of the cities. That is 
getting to be the modern fad.” 

“She has begun with that queer girl the doctor 
picked up last summer. She might make quite a 
decent nurse girl, with some training. Aunt Aurelia 
has failed very much since her accident, and Julia 
really doesn’t know how to manage girls. She has 
been with men and boys all her life.” 

Mrs. Lepage sighed. AVhen she envied Lyndell 
she quite forgot that not a penny of her OAvn father’s 
share had gone to Edward Sherburne’s child. 

Leonard was quite satisfied with Dell’s cordiality at 
parting, and promised to join the cousins as soon as 
he could get away from some important business. 

Miss Sherburne felt greatly relieved to be at 
home once more. Society had no compensations for 
age. 

“It seems as if I had been away six months in- 
stead of two!” Dell declared as she flew from room 
to room with some of her old eagerness. There was 
an inspiriting touch in her delight and satisfaction. 

Aunt Julia feared there might be some lurking 
shadows of sorrow about the place. But Dell’s happy 
voice would have sent them trooping. She was glad 


IVAS IT DUTY? 


29 


with a great thankfulness that Uncle Lepage had come 
to this quiet, roomy old house where there were. plenty 
of servants to wait upon him, and where no one 
fretted. It added a curious sacredness to the place in 
her estimation. 

Dell supposed Aunt Lepage loved him as much as 
she could love anyone. Her own pleasure was first 
to herself. And that awful, restless desire to be in 
the midst of gayety and fashion, to have her clothes 
and her jewels, yes, and her children admired for 
their beauty or their style or their povver of attraction ! 
And when one was done with it all — when the days 
came, as had happened to Uncle Lepage, when one 
said: “I have no pleasure in them”! What if the 
same thing should happen to Aunt Edith? 

Dell shivered at that, and secretly hoped Sherburne 
House would not be her refuge. 

All traces of the invalid had been removed — even 
the wheeled chair had been put away. There came a 
sudden springlike warmth in the atmosjDhere, and Dr. 
Carew insisted on Gifford being out of doors as much 
as possible. 

Alice clung to Dell in a curious manner. She 
seemed haunted by some influence. Dell thought it 
a kind of self-condemnation. She wanted to talk 
about her father continually. 

“He was unconsciously heroic, toiling for us all. 
What he must have lived through that year we were 
abroad ! There must have been so many discourag- 
ing, solitary hours! And that no one made it up to 
him in all this long illness! I did try a little last 
summer. Dell, did you ever seem to be talking a 
strange language to someone, knowing they could not 
understand, and yet you would not talk in their 


30 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


tongue? And now one can never say a word. It is 
too late.” 

Dell wanted to comfort, but what could she say? 
The thought had entered her mind more than once. 
The consolation was that Uncle Lepage had not 
wanted for anything. 

‘‘He had grown so accustomed to Gifford that I 
think he would not have enjoyed anyone else as well,” 
Lyndell said gently. 

‘‘It is not just now, it is all the years. And more 
especially since he fell ill. It seems as if we should 
have had a home together, and near his old friends. 
But Aunt Jue has been so lovely! Oh, Dell, what can 
a girl do to grow into that kindly, generous sort of 
womanhood? One must feel better to one’s self.” 

‘‘It is — thinking of others — in the little things,” 
and Dell colored warmly, with a strange hesitation. 
“Aunt Julia gives up a great deal. I feel sometimes 
as if I ought to take her place, being a daughter of 
the house, and let her have the freedom of her own 
life, to travel about with Uncle Stan wood.” 

‘‘Dell, I wish we could undertake it together. I 
am so tired already of that old life. And now that 
we are to be really poor 

She glanced up so wistfully her listener was moved. 

‘‘Oh, if you could!” Dell’s soft eyes were radiant. 
“We might be like real sisters. I don’t suppose Ethel 
wants you — needs you,” checking herself. “She is 
happy, is she not? Mr. Longworth seems very proud 
of her.” 

‘‘Ethel is Dell, what do you suppose makes 

us so indifferent? We ought to be intensely sympa- 
thetic. But we are not at all alike. Sometimes I 
have thought I must be at fault. She has been so 


WAS IT DUTY? 


31 


generous with me all winter. The only thing I could 
do to gratify her was to shine, and I shone.” There 
was a half smile on her lips, more pathetic than the 
tears in her eyes, “But all the time it seemed such a 
vain, useless shining, just to attract the moths of 
society. I wish I had a genius for painting, even as 
much as Ethel has, and Mr. Amory thinks she might 
do some very good work. And I haven’t the courage 
to be a strong-minded woman.” 

“You are just going to be comfortable for a while, 
and get over all your nervousness,” said Dell cheer- 
fully, drawing her to her heart and kissing her. 
“You are all tired out. I wonder why we make 
such hard work of pleasure, for after all pleasure is 
delightful, and should be one of the great sources of 
enjoyment.” 


CHAPTER III. 


GATHERING FRAGMENTS. 

S PRING was abloom everywhere. The whole air 
grew full of that mysterious wood melody — the 
chatter of birds, the rustling branches, the hum of 
bees — that was strident and ambitious, and had not yet 
been touched with the drowsiness of summer after- 
noons. The girls stood on the porch in the jasmine- 
scented air, wondering which direction they should 
take for a morning excursion. 

Someone was coming slowly on horseback. Dell 
flushed; it was her cousin Leonard. She had not 
grown used to meeting him tranquilly, she found, yet 
she could give no good reason for the disquiet. 

“You two girls are to be envied above all people,” 
he cried, with a wave of the hand. “Sherburne House 
is the Garden of Eden, or the Land of Beulah, or the 
Enchanting Country. If there are any more names 
of delight, they all belong to it. And you can dwell 
in this serene and beguiling atmosphere without a 


“Oh, has anything happened?” exclaimed Alice. 

“No, my dear cousin,” dismounting with a light 
spring. He kissed Alice, and Dell felt that a protest 
would seem silly. Yet she had meant to hold herself 
distant. 

“I came down last night. We, rather, for Amory 
came with me. I saw the folks an hour before I 


33 


GATHERING FRAGMENTS. 


33 


Started, and they were debating the important matter 
— ‘Where we shall go this summer.’ If I could come 
to Sherburne House I would ask no odds of fate or 
Europe. There is not much romance about business, 
but being a junior member I must stay and delve, 
while my seniors take their ease. Pity me a little.” 

Dell flushed still deeper under the glance. She 
could almost have shaken herself for the old friendly 
feeling. 

‘‘Where is Gifford? And is he well enough to be 
allowed to leave this seductive abode?” 

‘‘He is up in Aunt Aurelia’s room, looking over 
some business matters for her.” 

‘‘Don’t disturb him, then. I have all day before 
me. But my chief errand is to him.” 

Leonard threw himself down on the step with a 
dainty insouciance. A scarlet tanager clove the sun- 
shine and, settling himself on a branch, gave vent to a 
short, sharp little song, as if he had for a moment 
escaped family cares. 

‘‘Yes, it is simply delicious,” and he drew a long 
breath. ‘‘Dell, I was in New York last week. I 
went up to the Murrays’, to see if they were inconsol- 
able for your defection. Mr. Murray was going for 
a drive in the Park and insisted that I should have my 
call in the carriage, with Tessy and Mrs. Fanshawe. ” 

Dell glanced up with a look that was almost grate- 
ful, glad that he did not disdain her friends. 

‘‘Mr. Murray is a very fine business man,” he 
went on. ‘‘A gentleman by instinct. Oh, Dell, do 
you remember that old episode about Frasie Walden? 
I just wish she could meet Miss Murray somewhere. 
The dignity of that quaint little body would astound 
her. She is beautiful; do you not think so?” 


34 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“Why, I believe we always thought Tessy pretty. 
But Morna will outshine her. She grows tall, like her 
father, and has a peerless complexion. And an air!” 
Dell smiled. “She will be able to carry off the honors 
of a queen.” 

“There is something very charming about Miss 
Murray, though. Tm not sure but girls ought to be 
small,” laughingly. 

“She is like her mother, with the intangible differ- 
ence that training makes.” The young girl was be- 
ginning to understand. 

“Then I don’t wonder you were in love with Mrs. 
Murray. Dell, I shall always honor you for your 
courage and fidelity.” His voice dropped a little and 
went instinctively to her heart. “We are beginning 
to outgrow narrow prejudices.” 

“Everybody connected with Dell seems to be 
charming,” said Alice. “Yet I do feel glad the 
Murrays are rich as well; though money alone, with 
the vulgarity pride in it brings, is simply detestable. ” 

“We haven’t been brought up to consider money 
the great thing, although we cannot deny that it is a 
very thing,” declared Leonard. “But it seems 
to make very little difference in these modern times if 
a man has money, how he gets it. I confess I would 
rather come by it honorably.” 

“I don’t believe Mr. Murray would ever do a mean 
or dishonorable thing,” said Dell emphatically. 

Gifford and Aunt Aurelia came downstairs at this 
moment ; and the lady gave him a cqi;dial welcome. 
He looked so strong and handsome sitting there in 
the sunshine that her whole heart went out to him. 
He was like the son of her old age, and she still 
coveted him. 


GATHERING FRAGMENTS. 


35 


“I have come to break up your pleasant trio,” he 
began, taking Gifford’s hand. ” I heard of a very 
good temporary position yesterday morning, and I 
went to your mother. Gif. She begged me to come 
down at once. And if you feel able you had better 
go back with me to-night.” 

“I am quite well again and shall be glad to begin 
at anything. You are very kind,” the young fellow 
made answer. 

“I promised to look out for you, old chap. And 
by autumn I hope there will be something that prom- 
ises advancement. This is in the nature of a private 
secretaryship, though it is mostly copying matters for 
the press. The young man is to be sent to Europe on 
some important business, and his place is to be filled 
for two months or so.” 

“You think I am capable ” Gifford hesitated. 

Leonard laughed, with a soft kind of gayety that 
was encouraging rather than satirical. 

“As I remember, you were a very handsome pen- 
man. And the family take to correct spelling 
naturally, though even that is going out of fashion.” 

“Correct spelling!” exclaimed Aunt Aurelia, 
aghast. ‘T didn’t know there was any fashion to 
circumscribe so important a necessity.” 

“A fad, then! Oh, Aunt Aurelia, fashionable 
society will soon relegate us to a back seat,” and he 
put his arm over her shoulder caressingly. “The 
virtues we acquired with our early education will be- 
come a source of amusement. We shall be considered 
aborigines shortly. I sometimes think I must have a 
private secretary to decipher my own letters for me. 
So, Gifford, you need not worry.” 

A deep flush had suffused his rather pale face as 


36 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Leonard spoke of his penmanship. It had been con- 
sidered fine, and he had the dangerous gift of imita- 
tion that had already brought him into such peril. 
Was he to consider a chance word a reminder? 

“The morning is too glorious to waste,” declared 
Leonard. “Especially, when you do not have many 
such mornings at liberty. Can’t we all take a good 
gallop somewhere?” 

Dell’s eyes sparkled. Alice glanced up timidly. 
“Ought I?” she asked. 

“My dear cousin, we are a law to ourselves out in 
these wilds. We shall meet no one who will com- 
ment on us, and it would be a sin to miss such a 
splendid opportunity. You girls, go and get ready. 
Where is Julius?” 

There was something in the young man’s manner 
that touched Aunt Aurelia. That natural assumption 
of authority, that curious little air of feeling perfectly 
at home that would or ought to distinguish the owner 
of this grand old place. If matters only had gone on 
smoothly ! 

“Yes, do go, girls!” she said. “And it will do you 
good, Gifford. There will be plenty of time afterward 
to get ready.” 

She stood there alone when Leonard came back 
from ordering the horses. The light wind had blown 
some stray ends of hair over his forehead, his eyes 
were deep and eager, his coloring superb. She was 
very, very fond of him. 

“I am glad you and Lyndell are friends again,” she 
said softly. 

He gave a short, joyous laugh. “If you give Dell 
time, she generally comes around to the right side. 
But, Aunt Aurelia, I can’t help thinking a magnificent 


GAl'HERING FRAGMENTS. 


37 


boy was spoiled in Dell. What a pity she is not a son 
of the house, and that the Sherburnes are not to go 
on here under the old name. She has a courage and 
honesty that goes toward making a manly character, 
that women do not need to so great an extent. Their 
truthfulness ought to be allied to tenderness, 
sweetness. ” 

“I hoped she tvas growing more womanly,” and 
the elder lady sighed. 

“There is a new type of woman coming to the fore, 
and Dell unconsciously has some of her convictions, 
and the courage to carry them out. I like her, and 
would trust my very soul in her hands — nay, more, I 
shall always love her. Yet I am not sure we are the 
two people best suited to one another.” 

“Oh, Leonard! that old fancy!” she gasped, 
turning pale. “Surely you have relinquished 
it!” 

“Dear Aunt Aurelia, Dell decided it. I did want 
her approval. I was not such a mean fellow as to de- 
liberately wrong anyone. I meant, when the heat and 
indignation of the matter were over, to discuss it with 
her. She has learned a good deal of the real opinions 
that govern the world. She is well connected herself, 
and it does unconsciously influence a person. Be- 
sides, she loves my father dearly ; and I knew she 
would hesitate at giving him a lifelong discomfort. 
She took just the view of it that I thought she would. 
And now my conscience is clear, and we are the best 
of friends.” 

“But if some romantic notion had swayed her! Oh, 
Leonard! it was a great risk,” and Aunt Aurelia 
shivered. 

‘ ‘ Still, I feel better to have met it boldly. ’ ’ He held 


38 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


bis head proudly, with a sense of conscious rectitude. 
The girls were coming through the hall in their riding 
habits. He bent and kissed the cheek where the lines 
of age were making tracery. 

It was true, though Leonard Beaumanoir had not 
been as rigorous with himself as some less self-con- 
scious person. He had gone over the ground judi- 
cially; not with sympathy or any real remorse, only 
the wish that he had been wiser. Dell could judge 
from her own past experience how hard it would be 
for a person of unknown antecedents to make any 
headway with the household. Millicent would always 
have a gentle reservation. The real family harmony 
would be destroyed, and Dell would be in some 
degree answerable for it. 

Whether he would have gone through this course of 
reasoning if he had been in love with Anita Garcia, 
is very doubtful. Whether he would have .placed 
implicit reliance on Dell’s judgment, if she and Dr. 
Carew had openly espoused a marriage, was question- 
able also. But it was over and he was very happy, 
and relieved with a consciousness of well-done duty. 
He was not one to raise up old ghosts of the past. 
He could live happily in the present. 

They had an exhilarating gallop with much bright, 
youthful chatter. They stopped at Beaumanoir and 
brought Violet, Milly, and Mr. Amory home with 
them, on condition that by mid-afternoon all the 
party would return with the whole household. 

Dell managed to find a few moments with Gifford. 
It had been an engrossing and almost merry day. 
Dell had made an effort to inspirit Gifford, for she 
knew how he shrank from going out in the world again 
after his months of seclusion. 


GATHERING FRAGMENTS. 39 

He spoke of this. He shrank from facing the 
active duties of life. 

“But it will be so different,” she said, in a tone of 
encouragement. “Then,” smilingly, “you will be 
almost as much secluded, and quite among strangers. 
It will not be like the companionship in New York.” 

‘‘And I ought to be strong after these weeks of 
resolve, of endeavor. But I shrink away from a word 
that brings back the past. It grows blacker to me,” 
he said gloomily. 

‘‘Then you have no real trust in God, nor in your- 
self. Yet his gi'ace is sufficient.” 

‘‘I ajn afraid to trust myself. I may count on too 
much strength, and be deceived.” 

“Are you quite sure that is not weakness? God 
has promised with the temptation that comes to us to 
provide a means of escape, to provide strength. So 
long as we do not willfuly seek out temptation we can 
rely on his word, surely.” 

“You do not think I would seek out temptation 
again?” Gifford’s face seemed quivering with terror. 

‘‘No, I have a firm trust in your resolve. Can you 
not trust God, then? When we cry for strength and 
assistance against weakness, God does not lift us 
bodily over the dangerous places, but shows us the 
better way. Why, you remember there were steps in 
the Slough of Despond, and yet the pilgrims could 
not see them at first.” 

‘‘And there will be no one to talk to, to take com- 
fort with. Aunt Jue has been so good, a tower of 
strength.” Yet his voice sank piteously. 

‘‘But you must believe for yourself,” Lyndell said. 
“You must exert the power within your own soul, 
within your own body as well. It seems to me I 


40 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


would try to believe that I couldn’t be drawn into any 
wrong thing again.” 

” ‘Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed,’ ” 
quoted Gifford, with a half smile. 

“But he is expected to stand.^ after all. And to 
take heed lest he fall; not to sit down lest he fall.” 

“I used to make resolves in that old time,” he said 
despondently. ‘‘And I kept sinking deeper until I 
came to you.” 

‘‘But now you are going to keep them,” she replied, 
with a resolution in her tone that inspirited him. 
“You are going to take heed every hour, every 
moment when there is danger. But you will not con- 
jure up theoretical dangers, and wonder how you can 
pass through them safely.” 

Gifford was silent a moment or two. Then the 
grave face relaxed into a smile. 

“Dell, I do believe that is just what I have been 
doing this last week or two. What a foolish fellow to 
borrow trouble in that fashion! Yes, I will do my 
best and wait for the lions to come out. They may 
be chained and able to go only so far. My dear 
cousin, I wonder if you will ever know what you have 
been to me, what you have been to all of us!” 

The quick tears made the brown eyes lustrous. 

“I am glad if I have been of ever such a little help. 
It is such a blessed thing to have you all love me, to 
belong here.” 

“But I shall owe you more than any of the others. 
I can never hope to repay it all.” 

He took both hands in a solemn clasp. 

She wished in her generosity she could say, “The 
debt between us is forgiven. You begin again, free 
from any obligation.” But Uncle Beaumanoir had 


GATHERING FRAGMEJStTR. 4 1 ' 

Strictly forbidden it, and she could trust him to have 
a care for Gifford’s welfare. 

“Give me a chance for a last, long, lingering fare- 
well,” and Leonard came toward them. “Dell, I 
have had a splendid day! I seem to have lived ages 
in it. I shall take back with me the visions of boy- 
hood, and the ineffable loveliness of ‘the spot where I 
was born.’ When I have gained honors and a judge- 
ship and middle life, I shall come back here to end 
my days.” 

“Not at middle life, I hope!” laughed Dell. 

“I don’t believe I could face death as courageously 
as three years ago. No, I hope to have a good long 
life. Have you picked up all your traps. Gif? Then 
make the round of good-bys, for we must be off.” 

Uncle Beaumanoir managed that the leave-taking 
should be rather cheerful. He was going over to 
Ardmore with the young men. Mr. Amory was to 
spend a week or so. They tried to persuade Alice to 
stay, but she preferred to return to Sherburne House 
with Dell and the elders. 

Dell seemed in a very happy frame of mind. Miss 
Sherburne watched her in a questioning mood. As 
she had said, she was gratified to have peace restored 
between the cousins^ — nay, more, this friendly intimacy. 
She wanted Leonard to feel free to come to Sher- 
burne House. She could not quite believe her hopes 
had come to naught. It is so hard to give up a 
matter that looks wisest and best to us when all sur- 
rounding circumstances appear to promise fruition. 

Another year would make Dell mistress of herself 
and Sherburne House. Any marriage but with 
Leonard would change the atmosphere greatly. Yet 
she was trying to do justice to the very uttermost 


42 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


where Dell was concerned. Little by little her share 
in Gifford’s unhappy episode had been revealed, and 
one evening, when they had grown tenderly confi- 
dential, he had confessed the wretched story, even to 
the debt. 

‘ ‘I must see your uncle and have this paid at once,” 
she said decisively. “Why, he could have settled it 
himself. I do not understand it!” 

Her tone sharpened, for her dignity was wounded. 
That any member of the family should be thus 
indebted stung her to the quick. 

“Dear Aunt Aurelia, please let it stand. Like the 
prodigal, I said I would go to her. And I mean to 
pay every dollar. Oh, it would seem like snatching 
the credit out of her hands ! The shame of it would 
almost have killed you then. Everybody was trying 
to be careful of you. And Uncle Beaumanoir had 
done so much for father.” 

Yes, she had felt the consideration for a long while. 
And though she had at first rebelled and protested 
against weakness, she had resigned herself graciously 
to her lot. She could never stand so austerely alone 
again. 

She was too delicate to seem aware of Dell’s share 
in the rehabilitation of either of these cousins, though 
she could not quite dismiss a secret mortification. 
But the girl’s sweet unconsciousness went far toward 
soothing it. Dell arrogated to herself no superior 
wisdom; no touch of importance was manifest. She 
was unfeignedly glad to be at peace with everybody. 

But did Leonard mean she was so different from 
most girls that he had really ceased to care for her as 
he had heretofore? Was the world of womanhood 
changing? 


GATHERING FRAGMENTS. 


43 


The girls sat out on the porch together in the soft 
darkness of evening. She could hear their voices. 
Dell’s had an unconscious firmness, perhaps, but it 
had been trained to a sweet, attractive sound. They 
were talking of the lovers. 

“It isn’t a bit like Milly’s engagement,’’ said Alice. 
“I'hey seem like bees, taking the sweet everywhere. 
He was always finding excuses for her to stay in 
Washington, and if she came home he was sure to 
follow. He has painted some fine portraits, and he 
really was one of the events of the season. Did you 
see the Madonna?’’ 

“Not the real picture, the photograph. Tessy 
Murray was wild about it. I wanted to give it to her 
for Christmas, and I was at my wit’s end to make 
excuses that would keep her from buying it. The 
straits were positively amusing,’’ and she laughed. 

“It has a suggestion of Millicent — the indescribable 
look that came in her face in those early days after 
the accident. He will not sell the picture, nor paint 
a copy for anyone, although he has been offered an 
extravagant price. He allowed it to go to a loan 
exhibition, but he rarely shows it to visitors at the 
studio. He begins pictures of Violet and then rubs 
them out. There is only the one little portrait at 
Beaumanoir. ’’ 

“I suppose he loves her so w'ell that nothing comes 
up to his ideal,’’ returned Dell, with a soft little laugh. 

“They were looked upon as quite idyllic lovers, and 
yet they were never silly. Violet was greatly admired. 
She could have chosen over half a dozen times. And 
I am sure there were ever so many who envied her. 
To be loved like that ’’ 

Some longing in her cousin’s voice touched Dell. 


44 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Alice was leaning her face on her hand, and her head 
drooped with a wistful sort of poise, as if there was a 
vague imagined rest that would have been grateful. 
The lamp had been lighted within, and a delicate 
shadow enfolded her. 

“I suppose we all dream of love ” Dell checked 

herself; it seemed such a foolish thing to say. 

“And rarely find it. But some^Je^^ave— the 
exquisite satisfaction.” Alice’s sentence ended with 
a sigh. 

A disturbed thought came to Dell and somehow 
shaped itself unwillingly — the winter at Naples, and 
Amory’s admiration of Alice, the idealized picture he 
had painted of her. They had been such friends. 
Was it probable? A girl like Anita Garcia might give 
her heart ignorantly, but Alice 

There Dell’s face flushed with sudden scarlet. It 
was possible for a girl to see the combination of quali- 
ties that attracted her— nay, there was a certain subtle 
something that could not be put in words. It was 
deeper than a fancy, it did not clothe itself in a hope. 
It was a rare contingency, yet it might pass one and 
go to another. 

Had it passed Alice? 

Dell experienced an infinite, tender pity. She 
longed to draw her to her heart, to utter some whisper 
of sympathy, yet she felt quite helpless. This would 
be the bitterness with which a stranger meddled 
not. 

“Girls,” said the inspiriting voice of Aunt Julia, 
“are you out here bemoaning your loneliness? It 
really seemed like old times to-day. And I dare say 
you are tired enough to go to bed.” 

“Yes,” answered Alice, rising, “I have exhausted 


GATHERING FRAGMENTS. 45 

all my wit and grown stupid. So I think I will say 
good-night.” 

“But it is early,” protested Dell. 

“Still I long to take counsel of my pillow,” and 
Alice went to bid Aunt Aurelia a bedtime greeting. 
But she soon followed. Aunt Julia and Dell had a 
talk about Gifford. 

“I am very glad this came to him. The poor boy 
wants rousing, and it is not natural for a young fellow 
to keep so secluded.” 

“Aunt Julia, you can trust him!” Dell cried 
imploringly, as if she must settle the elder woman’s 
faith. 

“The lesson is too bitter, I think, to be repeated. 
Then he will never be in quite the same temptation 
again. He must work straight on.” 

“Are they going to be very poor?” 

“Well, Gifford must take care of himself. You see, 
if he had studied and graduated, he would have taken 
some position or gone on with a profession. However, 
nothing can be changed, and he did make his poor 
father very happy. I don’t know what Warren would 
have done without him. But, my dear. Aunt Aurelia 
won’t see anyone come to want. She is taking the 
expense of Florence upon herself. Ethel and her 
mother agree very well so far, and in a house like that 
two or three women are needed for the requirements 
of society. Then we shall all be good to Alice.” 

There was something heartsome in Aunt Julia’s 
tone and manner; very affectionate, too, as she 
placed her arm caressingly over Dell’s shoulder. 

“We must adopt her,” said the girl. “I want a 
sister; and surely I have enough for two or three.’’ 

“I wish we might keep her.” 


46 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


The wish was rudely dispelled, however, twenty- 
four hours later. Julius came up with the evening 
mail. Aunt Aurelia handed the key to Dell. The 
old habits of the house scarcely changed. 

“I dare say it is all for you young people,” and she 
smiled a little. 

“One for Aunt Julia, one for you, Alice, and two 
for me, beside the papers. That’s Tessy’s. She 
doesn’t write the big fashionable hand. And from 
California — Lady Ashton, of course.” 

Alice opened her letter reluctantly. It was not 
very long. But her countenance lost its glow. 

“Gifford is all right, I suppose?” said the elder 
lady rather nervously. 

“Oh” — Alice started suddenly — “mamma doesn’t 
say a word! I suppose she had not seen him yet. 
Ethel is not well, and they are going to take a sea 
voyage — to Old Point Comfort, Charleston, and 
Savannah. And they want me. I must go up to 
them. Oh, I wonder why they do! I would so much 
rather stay here and be quiet.” 

Dell was looking over Tessy’s letter. She wrote 
such a pretty, finished hand it was almost like reading 
print. And there was a page about Leonard’s call. 

Dell laughed to herself. “I suppose Tess thought 
she must confess every word he said. As if it 
mattered to me!” 

“What is it?” suddenly recalling Alice’s remark. 
“We cannot let you go. Ethel will have your mother 
to care for her.” 

“It isn’t as if we were on a society tramp. We 
miglit be excused a little while. I might at least.” 

‘‘A society tramp!” said Dell, amused. “I thought 
the fashionable world was resting after its campaign.” 


GATHERING FRAGMENTS. 


47 


“They never do rest.” Alice uttered this pettishly. 
“Before we stopped everybody was planning late 
spring and summer entertainments. Ethel wanted a 
cottage at Newport.” 

“I am afraid you were not meant for a fashionable 
woman,” said Aunt Julia. 

“Oh, I am not, surely! Though I do like pleasure 
and meeting people when they are — what shall I say 
— companionable, entertaining. When they have 
something new to say.” 

“But Solomon declared there wasn’t anything 
new,” said Aunt Julia, with an amused expression. 

“Perhaps there isn’t — much. But, Aunt Jue, many 
of the things are nice, if you could follow them to any 
conclusion. When one just gets interested in a 
chance remark, or a person who has had some bright 
or unusual experience, or has real ideas about a play 
or a book, you must leave this and go to the next 
comer, and repeat the old things about the day and 
the weather and somebody’s reception, and the dinner 
at the M.’s or the Y.’s. When you have said it over 
a hundred times it is tiresome. I want a nice long 
rest. I wish I could begin to make some use of my 
poverty. But I don’t know what I can do,” she 
added helplessly. 

“I almost envied you last autumn,” said Dell softly. 
“Yet I had a very happy winter. Tessy Murray has 
some delightful friends. And I found so many 
interests. I didn’t do half the things I wished to, 
though. But about this matter — I want you here. 
Can’t you write to Aunt Edith ” 

Alice took uj) her letter again. “There is no 
reprieve. Someone is to put me in the train to- 
morrow morning. They start on Saturday. Mamma 


48 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


has ordered a new gown, and everything is planned. 
Events always do seem planned for me. It would 
be nice to start up and do something of your own 
volition.” 

“You shall do it to-day!” declared Dell. “What- 
ever you desire shall be brought to pass; unless you 
cry for the moon, which you can’t have in the day- 
time.” 

“I have learned the wisdom of not desiring impos- 
sible things. Now, if I could only be content with 
the possible ones ! ” 

Dell flushed with a mysterious consciousness, as if 
she knew what the impossible thing might be. How 
bright she had been with Paul Amory yesterday ! She 
was too pure and high-minded to desire what could 
not be hers, yet how could one help missing it? 

She stooped and kissed her in warmest sympathy. 


CHAPTER IV. 


BETWEEN. 

‘ A LITTLE space in which to live my own life,” 
l\ Dell Sherburne said. Millicent, Violet, and Mr. 
Amory were making a brief visit to some cousins on 
the Beaumanoir side. Alice had rejoined her mother. 
Aunt Aurelia had been expressing a fear that she 
would find it lonely after so much companionship. 

The elder woman smiled. “You seem very happy 
in other people’s lives,” she said. “But I hope you 
will have something of your very own. There is time 
enough for it,” as if she would not hurry the future. 

Dell flushed a little. ‘T was thinking of the friends 
nearby. I don’t want to neglect them. Mrs. Kirby 
has asked for a few days. And I have just run in and 
out of Dr. Carew’s. Mollie Mason is home with her 
baby and besieges me for a day in which to study his 
perfections. And Aunt Jue and I are to take the 
boys over to Strawberry Creek on Saturday. Why, I 
couldn’t get lonesome if I tried.” 

She was very bright and happy in these days. The 
world was wide and beautiful. Why could she not 
make Alice see this? Even now she was troubled 
about her cousin’s depression, fearing almost for the 
future. She could not divine where Mr. Amory had 
been at fault. In that old time at Naples he had 
treated them all alike, but he had deferred rather 
more to Violet. 


49 


50 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


If it was her mistake, she surely ought to summon 
strength to live above it. But no one could touch the 
sore spot with any finger of healing. “We can’t 
always cease to care for people, any more than we 
can make ourselves care for them,” she ruminated 
sagely to herself. All this had come from a most 
uncomfortable letter from the young girl. Gifford 
was going on well and found his new employment 
agreeable. Everything seemed to open out on the 
sunny side. 

Aunt Aurelia sat with some fine sewing in her. 
hands She liked to think she was busy, and felt less 
nervous when she knew she could be employed at any 
second she chose. Dell was on the step, leaning 
her round chin on both hands, and letting her eyes 
rove about at their sweet will. She saw so many pic- 
tures of delight. 

“I suppose you will be busy ” 

“Not so busy but that I can take up anything for 
you,” she made answer. “Shall we have a drive?” 

“It wasn’t just that, though if you like to take me 
over to the doctor’s — I have a little errand with Miss 
Neale. But you might wish to ask someone in this 
lull, or is your own life to be quite by yourself?” 

Aunt Aurelia’s smile had a little mirth in it. She 
never said satirical things to Dell nowadays, and Dell 
understood. 

“No, I couldn’t live quite by myself.” She 
laughed softly. “I don’t even enjoy a walk alone, 
and in a drive, if there is no one, I talk to Bonny. I 
couldn’t be a nun and enjoy religion, in a convent cell.” 

“It is a good thing to keep a wide outlook.” 
Then, after a pause, she added quite irrelevantly: 
“Aunt Jue and I were thinking you might like to ask 


BETWEEN. 51 

some friends of your own. Sherburne House is at its 
most beautiful now.” 

Dell was silent from a mood of surprised conscious- 
ness. Then she laughed faintly. ‘‘Why, Aunt 
Aurelia, it seems funny to think of, but I haven’t any 
friends besides the Murrays. I haven’t kept up with 
a single schoolmate. I suppose it was going abroad. 
And there have been so many cousins I have not felt 
the need. Did you mean Tessy? How delightful in 
you to think of it!” For the assent was plain in Aunt 
Aurelia’s face. 

“You do not seem to make many young friends. 
Aunt Julia was speaking of it. My dear, we want 
you to feel at liberty to invite anyone you like very 
much to stay at Sherburne House. Not exactly those 
in the neighborhood — they are free to come at any 
time as their mothers did before them. We meant to 
have matters quite different on your birthday. But 
we could not plan for anything like pleasure.” 

“I am glad you thought of me, however.” She 
came and laid her hand on Aunt Aurelia’s shoulder. 
“And I am doubly thankful that Uncle Lepage had 
such a lovely place for his declining days. Then I 
have had so many pleasures in my life.” 

Did she count her joys double? Miss Sherburne 
remembered many things that could not have been 
pleasures. She had tried to restore; but there was 
so little she could give or do now. Yet Dell’s grate- 
ful joy for that little was exquisite. 

Aunt Julia had started the idea, it was true. And 
though it was rather awkward, she felt it was not 
only her prerogative to suggest it, but her duty. 

‘‘I would write at once,” she said gently. ‘‘People 
will be making summer arrangements soon.” 


5 ^ 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Then she sighed so softly Dell did not hear it as 
she kissed her. Was the old home feeling dying out? 

When Dell had written this glad, insistent epistle she 
thought of another that was troubling her conscience. 
She must take some counsel. Last summer the way 
had seemed clear to her — had she put a stumbling 
block in it with her own hand. 

Then she started for town. But she had just 
turned into the avenue when she met Dr. Carew. 

‘T was coming to scold you,” he said. “Jealousy 
isn’t confined to any age. Sometimes old people are 
the worst. But I warn you I am not to be crowded 
out. I shall stick to my place. Why can’t you give 
me an hour now and then?” 

“I have neglected you shamefully! But I was 
coming over. Aunt Aurelia and I.” 

Dell glanced up with such a laughing yet tender 
light in her eyes that his frown, never very deep 
settled, disappeared. 

“Come,” he said, “send Bonny back, and give me 
the morning. I have no very sick people on my 
hands. Even if it is a shopping expedition I will take 
you in to Ardmore.” 

“Gallantry can go no farther,” returned Dell laugh- 
ingly. “There is Uncle Pete — he will take Bonny 
back and a message.” 

Dell changed to the doctor’s buggy. It had been 
newly painted and looked quite fine. 

“I heard everybody had gone away. What have 
you been doing with yourself?” 

“Answering my back correspondence and listening 
to Gassy 's sage advice upon gowns that want touches 
here and there. At first, you know, there were Gifford 
and Alice ” 


BETWEEN. 


53 


He nodded with a far-off look in his eyes. 

“And now we are quite settled. Alice was very 
loath to go. She is tired out, and she feels badly 
about her father.” 

‘‘The end was inevitable. He lived longer than 
I thought possible. It was Giffbrd’s care and the 
quiet. And now I hope the young man is started on 
the right road. The winter did a good deal for him, 
as well. And your dissipation in New York doesn’t 
seem to have worn you out.” 

He looked at the shining eyes and the clear skin, 
the scarlet lips that held a summer-like sweetness. 

“We didn’t dissipate very hard. There was some 
splendid music. I’m converted to Wagner. And 
some famous people came and read their own stories ; 
some poets, and read their poems. And pictures with- 
out end. A winter in New York is a liberal 
education.” 

“And my boy — you saw him?” 

The doctor pretended to be engrossed with a fly 
who was considering the tenderest, choicest morsel of 
his horse, but he noted the bright flush that came 
down to her ear and sent a delicate shade to her very 
neck. 

“Yes, we saw him. Oh, you can’t think what a 
friend he is of Tessy Murray’s! She goes about 
doing missionary work for him. There are so many 
poor — there is such bitter, biting poverty ! ” 

“And you couldn’t drive them out of the cities. 
They despise country places,” he declared shortly. 

“And Tessy may come, I have just sent for her. 
Aunt Aurelia proposed it. Oh, Dr. Carew! you can’t 
imagine how lovely it is to be at peace with all ” 

“All women?” interjected the doctor in the pause. 


54 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“Miss Lyndell, I am quite in love with your great 
aunt, Miss Sherburne. It is well this didn’t happen 
in my marrying days. My dear child, no one re- 
joices more than I,” he added, with sudden emotion. 
“Looking at the other world and the laying down of 
life, naturally softens one. There was her long ill- 
ness. And there was the endeavor of a little girl ’’ 

“Oh, Dr. Carew, it was such a weak, halting 
endeavor. And I was — yes, I was obstinate and self- 
willed, and must have tried her to the uttermost. I 
wish I had been different. I wish even now I was 
different. I don’t know that I could fill a large place, 
but I often seem to myself to be lopping off something 
not really wrong, to enable me to go through other 
people’s doors. Or is it conceit?’’ 

He laughed heartily. “Some doors are narrow,” 
he made answer. Would she ever quite fit in Sher- 
burne House? What if a wider world opened before 
her? Would she be able to go out into it with theiT 
blessing? 

He drove lazily along. It was such a perfect day, 
with growth and bloom in riotous profusion, and a 
flawless sky. They lapsed into silence. One charm 
about her was the delightful repose. Perhaps the 
repression of earlier years had its use. Nature’s 
divine book lay open before her, and every leaf, every 
vista of golden-tipped shade, the squirrels darting in 
and out, the bursts of melody, touched her with reverent 
delight. Every line of her face was informed with a 
soul depth that bespoke unfolding possibilities. It 
had changed greatly from the child’s face. It was 
stronger than her father’s; not as handsome, yet it had 
many of the Sherburne indications. 

Even while he watched, the tranquillity was a trifle 


BETIVEEAT. 


55 


disturbed by some passing thought. He was fond of 
watching faces when they held enough to repay his 
study. 

“Well?” he inquired presently, when it had settled 
to a touch of perplexity. 

She turned and smiled faintly. 

“I ought not to have a care or anxiety since it is 
smooth sailing with me; since everybody has seemed 
to overlive their hurts and wounds. And this isn’t” 
— what should she say to exonerate the others — 
“this is a burden of my own making.” 

“Oh, are you still at the business?” with a dry, 
humorous smile. 

“I am afraid I shall be at it all my life long,” she 
answered gravely. “I remember you once proposed 
burying them all as the farmers did vegetables, and 
you said the poor ones would shrivel up and end 
themselves. But this comes up plump and sound. 
And I must do something with it.” 

A soft color wavered over her face. 

His eyes questioned her. Was Leonard concerned 
in it, he wondered. 

“It is about — Anita Garcia.” 

“And isn’t everything satisfactory?” 

“It is what to do next!” she exclaimed impetuously. 
“I don’t know who could advise me best. Perhaps I 
was hasty and self-willed about it last year. I have 
been learning a great many things about myself, and 
sometimes I seem to have no mind at all.” 

But she had had mind and decision enough in that 
journey from New York. 

“Has the girl disappointed you?” 

“Yes, she has.’’ Dell’s face was suffused with a 
curious emotion akin to shame. 


56 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“Then she has not come up to your wishes for her. 
She is not as capable as you imagined.” 

“Oh, it is not that. There seems no question now 
but that she has a beautiful, promising voice. Mrs. 
Weir believes that she will be a great success. Her 
teachers have said so, and there is no reason why she 
shouldn’t go on.” 

“Well, what then?” 

“I am selfishly disappointed. I wanted her to care 
about me. Her letters are so precise, so unsympa- 
thetic that they would amuse one. She is my debtor 
until such time as she can repay me, and she will work 
night and day to do it. At first she was indifferent to 
everything but music. Now she is very ambitious and 
learns with the utmost rapidity. Mrs. Weir is greatly 
interested in her. It is considered best for her to 
keep on another year.” 

“Then why should you feel so anxious?” 

“I have not seen her at all in all this time. I went 
straight through to New York in the winter. I asked 
her to come up to us for the holidays. ^Fhe Murrays 
were anxious to see her. Of course I did not tell 
the whole story.” 

“There was no need. It would not have been just 
to all parties. There was nothing absolutely repre- 
hensible on her part, but sins of ignorance are some- 
times as severely punished as sins of intent. We 
seldom take God’s large, clear sight. And she did 
not want to come?” he added. 

“That was exactly it. She made some excuses 
about the music; oratorios, I think it was, that were 
to be given. Then I spoke of visiting her. She gave 
me a decided impression that she was not anxious 
about it. She holds herself so aloof. She is so 


BETIVEEAT. 57 

different from what I hoped. Yet she seems very, 
very grateful." 

“And the next year is about decided upon?” 

“Mrs. Weir advises it. Anita wishes it. I am 
quite sure it will be wisest.” 

“Then your trouble is about the vacation time? 
She does not want to come here?” 

“I am sure she does not.” 

“I think it much the best. I respect her for it.” 

“Yet we all admitted she was not at fault,” Dell 
said, with a sense of disappointment at his approval. 
She could see it was best herself, yet she was not quite 
ready to have another put it into forcible words. 

“Would you rather she were willing to come?” 

“I don’t know. I’d like her to want to see me. I 
think my amour prop?' e is hurt,” and Dell smiled faintly. 

“You want to reap the reward of your good work 
too soon. My dear, there are people who wait years. 
There are people who never get it at all, but have it 
laid up in the world beyond.” 

“Was I over-hasty?” 

“I suppose the matter couldn't have come about 
unless God had permitted. I still think he sent a 
work for you to do, and you could do it better than 
any of us.” Did he send a lesson and an experience 
with it? “It takes an infinite deal of patience to dis- 
entangle the crossed threads of life,” he resumed, 
after a pause. “Youth seldom does it. We learn 
later on what God meant, and often find our early 
translation of his dealings very faulty indeed. But we 
never start perfect in the beginning. There would be 
nothing for us to learn. The matter has worked no 
real harm anywhere that I can see.” 

He was trying in these days to be very just and not 


58 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


hurry any meaning God might have in store. Even 
he, with his years and experience, longed sometimes 
to move the minute hand of events on the dial of 
Providence. 

“I wonder if you would say the same thing now as 
you did then, that they are better apart?” she asked 
timidly. 

‘‘I certainly should.” Then he laughed softly, 
“Dell,” he said, half amused, “when you come to 
know the world better, and the men therein, you will 
feel assured that Leonard told the truth when he said 
he had never really loved Miss Garcia. If he had 
repented even, he would have gone to her. But I 
cannot think she would have accepted him.” 

“Suppose,” began Dell tremulously, her pulses all 
athrob with the deep import the question had for her, 
“suppose he had asked you — or his father — to decide 
whether he owed her any reparation! I wonder what 
either of you would have said.” 

“I should have advised him to let her quite alone. 
This is one of the cases where the past ought to bury 
its dead. Surely, Dell, you are not romantic enough 
to wish to play peacemaker between them?” 

“Oh, no!” she cried hastily. A great burden was 
lifted off her soul. 

“1 think Leonard has overlived the mortification. 
And, my dear, I am truly sorry for you. But it is 
only such a little while, and she was, I felt last 
summer, a peculiar combination of truth and igno- 
rance and unreason. Do not force her to anything. 
Give her a choice of what she desires to do this 
summer, since she will remain at school another year. 
If you cannot help in her mental development, do not 
hurt or hinder. Time is nature’s great healer.” 


BETWEEN. 


59 


“I wonder what I should do without you?" Dell 
said, slipping her hand into the doctor’s. “One can 
confess to you so easily. Much as I love Aunt Jue 
and depend on her counsel, I didn’t know how to talk 
this matter over with her. I suppose I was ashamed 
to confess to her that Anita had not responded to my 
regard. I believe I do love her. I feel sore and 
hurt about it.’’ 

“I do not imagine it is ingratitude. There are so 
many contradictory emotions in the human heart. 
Anyhow, you will have the comfort of knowing that 
you helped her over a rough place, and set her feet in 
a large room. I think you can trust her to go on. 
Are there any more troubles?’’ 

“No,’’ returned Dell, with soft, shining eyes. “I 
am only afraid of being too happy and too idle. I am 
twenty years old. Dr. Carew. I ought to be doing 
something for the good of the world at large.’’ 

“That is a very tempting and confusing idea. The 
world at large is an aggregation of tlie little world 
beside us. And doing for ‘the least of these,’ is the 
great commendation. It is the little steps that take 
one up higher. 

“ ‘We reach not heaven at a single bound, 

But build the ladder by which we rise.’ ” 

Dell smiled a little. Then she thought of another 
life. Yet Bertram Carew had said not long ago, with 
the utmost enthusiasm; “I shall be content to leave 
behind me as good a record as that of my father.’’ 
It would be wider; yes, it would be grander. Yet 
what a delight he took in the simple things of life. 
AVhy could she not be content? 

There was a delightful dinner with Miss Neale, 


6o 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


whose hair was being threaded with silver, and whose 
soft complexion began to lose its firmness. And, 
curiously enough, she was anxious to know how Anita 
Garcia prospered. She was not quite certain the life 
of a public singer would be the one for her. 

“But her one gift is this beautiful voice; a remark- 
able voice, they all think. If it was any other genius 
she would be expected to use it.” 

“But such a child!” said Miss Neale. 

“We are all growing older,” laughed Dell. “And, 
though she carhe from Florida, she may not have 
bathed in the fountain of eternal youth. Several 
years must elapse before she can face an audience.” 

Miss Neale was unconvinced of the propriety of 
the step. Yet she had nothing better to propose. 

“I hope she will not prove ungrateful to you,” she 
rejoined as sternly as her soft voice would permit. 

They went into town in the afternoon and made 
some calls on old friends, Mrs. Kirby being among 
the number. How prim and old-fashioned the house 
looked! Yet Dell could recall the lovely visit of her 
childhood, and how happy she had been. Here was 
the old library where she’ and Spenser had traveled 
in imagination that happy evening. Mrs. Kirby 
begged for a visit of several days. Mr. Whittingham 
was anxious to see her. 

Could she ever fall into these quiet ways? A 
strange enthusiasm kept stirring her up at odd 
moments. She wanted her life to be some kind of 
success; the vague dreams of early girlhood came 
over her with a vivid longing. There were women in 
the larger world taking a hand in great works, help- 
ing, organizing, sustaining charities and homes and 
training girls to usefulness. She did not belong to 


BETWEEN. 


6i 


the past generation. She felt it in her glowing 
vitality, in her energy, in all her desires — if she could 
not formulate them distinctly. 

There was a sphere, but she tried not to see it, or 
to look at it, with another life, taking up its blessed- 
ness. It might be years, for the man’s plans were so 
full of eager sympathy, of high desires for the best in 
science and experience and learning of all kinds. 
She was glad that the slight mental disturbance could 
be put off a while; she was not quite ready to take it 
up and rejoice in it, as she must for Millicent’s sake. 
And Milly had always been beloved by the doctor and 
Miss Neale. 


CHAPTER V. 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 

I T looked at Sherburne House as if there might be a 
gathering of the clans. The Garricks had pro- 
posed a visit. Miss Maria had been an invalid all 
winter and was longing for a change. They were to 
stop a while with some Sherburnes in Richmond, and 
then would go on to Baltimore. - 

“Why not have a sort of family gathering to meet 
them? All elderly people?” explained Aunt Jue. 
“They are never able to travel around much in 
winter, and now everything is at its best, before the 
heat of summer sets in.” 

“Why, yes,” said Aunt Aurelia slowly, as if she 
must have time to take in all the plan. And the older 
people would pass away presently. 

“The young folks can have a good time at any 
season, so we do not need to consider them,” sub- 
joined Aunt Julia. ‘ ‘And Dell will have Tessy to keep 
her in countenance.” 

And so they had come, and there was much neigh- 
borhood visiting as well. Miss Garrick had not seen 
Dell since the long ago Christmas, though both sisters 
had visited Sherburne House while she was abroad. 
She was surprised at the tall, fine-looking girl, who 
might have been called handsome, away from Millicent 
and Violet. 

Miss Maria was extremely thin now and waxen 

C2 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 


63 


pale. She still wore her hair in the old fashion, with 
the two drooping curls behind one ear ; but she was 
very feeble, and her quaint sprigged lawn seemed to 
add to the delicacy. Miss Eliza hovered about her 
in a careful, motherly way. The twelve years’ differ- 
ence in their ages had given her that right. And 
though she did not seeni very robust, she really was 
more brisk than Aunt Aurelia. Then there was a 
Mrs. Sherburne — a stout, cheerful body, seventy or 
thereabout — and her daughter, nearing fifty. The rest 
of her children had married and gone away. One son 
had been killed in the war; one had gone out to Cali- 
fornia, to seek a new fortune on the Western coast. 
Then some Floyds, and two Baltimore cousins who 
had come to take the Garricks home with them. 

It was a picture of a world about which Dell had 
known nothing. Their quaint dressing and formal 
little touches that had been drilled into them nearly 
half a century before were so different from modern 
life, just as their ideas and beliefs seemed to have a by- 
gone stamp. Yet there was something nice and deli- 
cate; a high grace of courtesy with one another, a 
clinging scent of rose leaves and lavender; there 
seemed a pervading sense of rest and refreshing. 

The season, too, was at the very height of beauty — 
bloom everywhere; the great clustering vine leaves 
tossing it out lavishly, a breath of the divine un- 
smothered life, not freighted with the crush and 
burden of cities. 

One of the phases that interested Dell strangely was 
Tessy’s peculiar adaptiveness. She was so at home 
with these quaint, other-world people who were always 
going over their own youth, and often their mothers’ 
memories of customs and events. They cared so little 


64 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


about the world’s progress; indeed they knew nothing 
about it, except to dread innovations. Yet Tessy 
seemed as much at home as in the stir and bustle of 
New York, and the societies for the advancement of 
everybody. 

Miss Aurelia had been won in that early visit by 
her subtle grace. She seemed to infuse an element of 
rare harmony in the atmosphere; she was so interested, 
so sympathetic, yet never insincere; she listened and 
threw in bits of talk that brightened what the others 
said, that gave it a real and pertinent meaning. 

“You put them all at their best,” Dell declared. 
“I don’t see how you do it.’’ She could be at her 
best with some people, not all. But Tessy seemed 
always at her best. 

With all her lessons Dell had not yet learned the 
art of bringing out what was admirable in others. But 
at twenty most of us have not gone very far, except 
those rare souls with a special inheritance. 

Miss Aurelia was well satisfied that these relatives 
should meet Miss Murray, since, indeed, the Murrays 
had proved to be people it was not necessary to ignore. 
All these incidents went far toward neutralizing the 
early mistake that she and Mrs. Lepage had been 
largely answerable for. Even the strain of Irish blood 
proved no detriment, since the Garricks were proud 
enough of theirs, more than two centuries old. It 
seemed a bond between them and Tessy. Miss Maria, 
indeed, quite laid claim to her. 

‘ ‘Oh, there are Aunt Beaumanoir and Cecil ! ” cried 
Dell, springing down the path to meet them. “And 
— you didn’t walk, surely? Where are Millicent and 
Baby Nora?’’ 

“No, uncle brought us most of the way. He is 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 


65 


going into town and will bring out Floyd and Winnie. 
I was to tell Aunt Jue. I left Milly with Dr. Ber- 
tram, who came about midnight, it seems, and they 
have some business together. He must go back to- 
night. Miss Neale is coming to tea. She drove Ber- 
tram over an hour or two ago, and then was going to 
the Moores. Gilbert, it appears, must go to the 
Adirondacks.” 

“Oh!” exclaimed Dell; “is he worse?” 

“Not exactly worse, but not getting better. Bertram 
and his father were there in the morning. There, I 
believe I have distributed my budget of news. Am I 
not a good gossip?” And she smiled down into Dell’s 
face. 

A bright color flushed it. A touch of curiosity as 
well. 

“You look like a picnic,” said Aunt Laura, cross- 
ing the wide porch and laying aside her bonnet. ‘ ‘But 
how industrious you all are!” laughing pleasantly. 

“We are old-fashioned enough for that,” returned 
Cousin Sherburne. “It makes me nervous to sit idle. 
And mother is always knitting.” 

Cecil came to Dell and put one arm about her waist. 
He was growing a very manly little lad. 

She listened to the child’s talk and answered, but 
she was thinking of Bertram’s sudden and unan- 
nounced visit. Surely it was not all on young Moore’s 
account. And yesterday morning no one had known 
of his coming. 

Yet she had set this truth before herself, and why 
should any feeling rise up in protest? If they two 
had come to a later consciousness; if he had stood 
aside when he knew the gift was not for him; why 
should she be envious of this new awakening? 


66 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“I will not be,” she said to herself. But had not 
another mood come over Millicent? She kept very- 
much to herself, she was either busy or preoccupied 
— growing away from her again. 

Dell entertained Cecil until the other children came, 
and then they had a merry time. Presently Miss 
Neale made her appearance, but the others lingered 
until almost supper time. 

Bertram came with his fresh, strong personality that 
was like a breath from the mountains, and in an 
instant they all seemed stirred from the gentle meander 
of the social stream. Miss Neale was very proud of 
him, as they all could see. And Dr. Carew had been 
a fixture so long that they all knew him and his life 
history, and took a certain pride in his son. 

Millicent kissed Dell first, since with the group of 
children she had just turned the corner of the porch, 
and almost ran into her arms. 

“I meant to be here a good hour ago, but there 
was so much to do.” Then she checked herself sud- 
denly, and a bright color went up to the edge of her 
hair. ‘T hope we haven’t delayed supper.” 

“Oh, no!” answered Dell, in confusion. Then she 
stooped to Nora and lifted her in her arms, while 
Millicent went to greet the others. 

Shortly afterward they were all summoned to the 
dining room. Uncle Beaumanoir had the foot of the 
table, with two young people on either side, and then 
the row of elders going up to Aunt Aurelia, while the 
three boys were delighted to have Nora with them, 
and Cassy to wait upon them. But the vital interest 
seemed to center in Bertram. That Dr. Carew’s son 
should be out with the great men of the world, 
names they had heard of in connection with books 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 


67 


and systems and wonderful work for humanity, aston- 
ished them. And to have him sitting here, bringing 
out the best social points and explaining away their 
gentle fears of the world going on too fast and getting 
tangled up with theories — as if most of the facts of 
to-day had not been theories of yesterday, sifted and 
winnowed and brought to the strong search-light of 
truth! 

“I do wonder what keeps father,” he said, as they 
went back to the porch and the wide-spreading lawn. 
“He is to drive me to the station." 

“Must you go?” Aunt Neale said pleadingly; and 
Aunt Aurelia wondered gently at his brief stay. 

“It was just a little flying visit on some business 
I couldn’t well write about.” Millicent was sitting 
on the step below Dell, who caught the warm flush as 
it flashed over her face. “ And I am due to-morrow 
noon, to see what can be done for a poor fellow. 
This isn’t any real vacation, but just a delightful 
glimpse of you all. Apd, Aunt Aurelia, I ought to 
thank you for the pleasure of meeting some old 
friends. Sherburne House has been famous for good 
times.” 

He came around presently to Tessy Murray’s 
vicinity. “I have ever so many messages for you,” 
he began. “You have been greatly missed, I assure 
you. And so many people are going away now, that 
all the willing hands and large hearts count. Every 
year the work increases.” 

“Dell,” said Millicent presently — rousing an unwill- 
ing listener, who with a sense of half-bitter sweetness 
was thinking how these two people worked together — 
“Dell, I had a letter from Germany this morning. 
Countess Sophie has a fine little son, born at Lucken- 


68 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


walde and christened Waldemar. So the question of 
the heir is settled, and I suppose Countess Sophie is 
the happiest of women. And Baron Zahn is engaged, 
to the utmost satisfaction of his godfather.” 

She reached up a little and took Dell’s hand. 
There was no answering pressure. 

“Dell, dear, you do not regret ” 

For a moment Lyndell Sherburne recalled the 
enthusiastic love that had been urged upon her accept- 
ance. But no, she did not want to be in that faraway 
home, lovely as it was, with no friends of her own. 

‘‘Oh, no, not that!” and a little shiver ran over 
her. ‘‘I am glad it is so. Baron Zahn deserved to 
be happy, and it really was his duty to meet his grand- 
father’s wishes in every possible manner. Yes, 
Countess Sophie must be very proud and content.” 

There was Tessy’s soft voice purling through it all. 
Miss Maria was sitting beside them, so they could not 
be exchanging confidences exactly. She did not want 
to hear, and yet the very sound gave her a sort of 
nervous annoyance. Neither did she want to talk to 
Millicent. 

‘‘Hallo!” cried a cheerful voice. ‘‘Beaumanoir, 
are you secretary of this woman’s convention? I’ve 
been listening to the doings of one in Washington, 
and have a queer feeling that we shall have to make a 
stand or be swept away. I ^cas almost swept away. 
I began to think I should never get away in any other 
fashion. Have you persuaded Bertram that he loves 
Caesar more?” 

Bertram rose with a sweet, hearty laugh. ‘‘For all 
that I must leave Rome and emulate another famous 
hero,” he began, taking a few steps forward. ‘‘We 
have not a great deal of spare time, have we?” 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 


69 


“Oh, enough, enough! I’m sorry I couldn’t come 
to tea,’’ turning to Miss Aurelia. “Still, I think my 
sex was well represented in ability, if not in numbers. 
Neale, will you take your chance with us — two great 
fellows as we are?’’ 

“We will see about Miss Neale’s getting home,’’ 
said Mr. Beaumanoir. 

There was the rather pleasant confusion of good 
wishes with the good-bys. He turned back to say to 
Tessy: “You will write about it.’’ Dell rose and 
stood on one side — did he miss her accidentally, so far 
as a clasp of the hand went? He looked over Milli- 
cent’s shoulder to say good-by, but a little group went 
down the path, Dell among them. Bertram sprang 
up lightly and waved his hand, and the wheels 
crunched on the drive. 

The others came back to their talk. Dell busied 
herself with the children again. Nora climbed up in 
her mother’s lap and went to sleep. The young 
moon was hurrying along her path, it seemed, drifting 
into cool blue hollows and then shining out again. 
The glitter had gone from the west, and a grayish 
softness came in its stead. Had something gone out 
of her life and left touches of gray? 

The elders were talking about Bertram. Why did 
she not wish to hear him praised to-night, with Milli- 
cent sitting there, her face upraised a little and with 
an indescribable, satisfying light in it, as if she was 
dreaming of a blessed future, so rich, so complete 
that it shut out other visions? 

Yes, she would be happy again. Two splendid 
loves to come into one life ! Was the other buried out 
of sight? Would it be forgotten? A strange over- 
whelming protest came up in Dell’s heart. 


70 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


She had vaguely suspected before, but to-day there 
had been an assurance given. Something important 
called him down, surely. He was bright and cheer- 
ful, and Millicent happy. She had been vouchsafed 
a glimpse of unwitting confidence ; was it a fine, strong 
friendship only? And she said, wounded in the ten- 
derest spot, the friendship could be no real comfort. 

Some of the guests went away a day or two later. 
The Garricks were having such an enjoyable time, and 
poor pale Miss Maria seemed to brighten up; indeed, 
she confessed to Tessy that she felt almost like getting 
well. 

“If we had some young people!” with pathetic 
regret in her voice. “Cousin Aurelia has always been 
so fortunate. One and another stays at Sherburne 
House, and the children come and go. But we are 

all alone. And what Eliza will do when ” The 

tears came to her eyes. “We all like youth and sun- 
niness,” she went on tremulously, as Tessy smoothed 
the soft, thin hair, that had no need of crimping pins 
to make it wave, and kissed the still softer cheek. 
“And I wish we could have taken someone years 
ago — a child whose father was killed in the war, 
perhaps, and whose mother died of grief. I wish we 
had thought of it in time.” 

“There are so many little ones being sent to institu- 
tions,” Tessy said softly, “that would be so glad of a 
home and mother love, friend love ; for perhaps one 
couldn’t quite give mother love.” 

“But if they gave the best they had, and if it filled 
the loneliness?” She glanced wistfully into the girl’s 
eyes. “It is too late to think of it now. Only, if I 
should not be here — some time, and poor Eliza 
alone ” 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 


n 


“God will not let her remain quite alone, I am 
sure,” said the tender voice, with comfort in it. s 

“I am so glad to have this little visit with you,” the 
elder rejoined after a while. “You come so near to 
one’s heart, my dear. You have a rare gift.” 

Tessy was thinking afterward that if she were Dell 
and Aunt Aurelia — she smiled a little, since she cer- 
tainly could not be two people — she would ask Miss 
Eliza to come and stay at Sherburne House when the 
time of loneliness overwhelmed her. And she wished 
Miss Maria could see their household with all the 
merry, jolly children. How could anyone live alone ! 

Then Leonard came down for a few days. He 
brought encouraging accounts from Gifford. Violet 
returned, lovelier than ever, it seemed, and quite 
decided upon a marriage in the autumn. 

“We shall go abroad for a year or so," she said to 
Dell. “Milly will be at home, and Nora seems like 
another baby growing up in the household. They can 
spare me, and Paul is becoming impatient. Oh, have 
you heard from Alice? Aunt Lepage wrote tp mamma 
and suggested that Alice was — well, about engaged, 
making a very good marriage. I do wonder who it 
can be? Has Alice indicated any penchant to you?” 

“No,” returned Dell, rather startled. 

“You have been such friends. Alice is very, very 
fond of you. She is absolutely smitten with your 
courage and resolution. She isn’t much like Ethel, 
but I wish she could stand up for herself a little more. 
There were two or three men last winter — one was as 
old as Mr. Longworth, but not as refined and gentle- 
manly. Then there was a young fellow, a Mr. 
Phillips. I think he was very much in love with her, 
and he has no end of money, I believe.’’ 


72 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“And was she “ Dell paused. She did not 

need to ask the question ; she knew very well Alice 
had not even a vagrant fancy for him. 

“He is a silly fellow, not worse than some other 
society young men. I am beginning to dislike men 
with no aims and no resources. And it was whispered 
about that he was not quite steady. But part of his 
fortune is tied up in some way so that he can’t run 
through it. Then there was a fine fellow, someone’s 
secretary, who had been txihnected with a Western 
paper, and wrote no end of very bright sketches. He 
was quite a favorite with Mr. Longworth. But I 
think Alice evaded the real offers. I wish she was 
going to be very, very happy.” 

There was a depth in Violet’s eyes that attested her 
happiness. Dell sighed. 

‘T suppose we wish all the girls a splendid lover,” 
and Violet laughed out of a full heart. 

She would never know she had taken the happiness 
of another. Yet if it came honestly to her? How 
could she take what was not designed for her? And 
Dell remembered that Violet had once refused Paul 
Amory from the highest motives a conscientious 
woman could have. Yes, she had a right to her own 
happiness, surely. 

“What are you studying over?” asked Violet, with 
a sense of amusement. “The whole weight of asking 
and answering seems on your shoulders. I do not 
think Alice would make a mercenary marriage. I 
can’t really say that Ethel’s is. Mr. Longworth has 
the highest respect and admiration for her, and Ethel 
is really proud of him, fond of him. But the position 
and wealth are great factors to her. She really 
couldn’t be happy without them. And Alice would 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 


73 


like nothing better than coming down here to live 
among us all. I suppose she is what is called a thor- 
oughly domestic girl.” 

“I only wish she would come ! ’ ’ cried Dell earnestly. 

“Papa told Aunt Edith and Alice that nothing 
would give him more satisfaction than for them to feel 
that Beaumanoir would always be a home to them. 
Do you know, Dell, that papa is a very noble and 
large-hearted man?f ^ I suppose children are deficient 
in appreciation, while they overrun with admiration. 
Maybe it is because I have been thinking more of 
these things, that I see the fine qualities in him.” 

“He was good and tender to me the first night I 
saw him,” and the quick tears came into Dell’s brown 
eyes. 

“And we were such heathens!” Violet flushed in 
a perfect shame of scarlet. “But that has gone by, 
and we all love you. And, Dell, you were quite right 
about Leonard. I am beginning to think it would 
take a great deal of grace to love Leonard, year in 
and year out. He is splendid, and there is no ques- 
tion but that he will make his mark. I am so glad for 
papa’s sake. And Ned is getting over some of his 
uncomfortable ways, and is ambitious to distinguish 
himself. But Leonard has a kind of imperiousness 
that wouldn’t suit all women. I don’t really believe 
it would suit you,” and she gave a furtive little laugh. 

“No, it wouldn’t! ” exclaimed Dell emphatically. 

“I hope he will get just the right kind of wife. Not 
one of those silly, adoring creatures, either. A girl 
something like Alice, for instance; well, perhaps a 
little stronger, but gentle and disarming and thoroughly 
good. Oh, dear, what a selfish lot we are! We want 
everyone belonging to us to be saved from all the 


74 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


mental, moral, and physical ills of life. After all, if 
everyone even prayed that way, and tried.^ a good many 
might be saved. Is that narrow and heterodox, or 
merely sophistical?” and Violet laughed gayly. 

“Why, if we could each save one person, the whole 
world would be saved.” But Dell looked puzzled. 

‘‘We may get astray,” returned Violet dubiously. 
‘‘There are all the heathen. But I was going to say, 
ever so far back there, that mamma had written for 
Alice to come and spend the summer with us, and 
take some journeys — whatever we decided upon. I 
am glad papa didn’t say it would afford him a great 
deal of happiness to take in Aunt Edith. She is a 
very uncomfortable person. Oh, I wish they had not 
lost their fortune.” 

Dell gave a little gentle sigh. 

“Lyndell!” called a voice from the hall below; a 
clear, rich, authoritative voice. 

“Well?” 

‘‘Are you going back to Sherburne? If so, I will 
drive over with you. I must go and make a morning 
call on Aunt Aurelia.” 

“Yes,” answered Dell, for she felt she ought to 
have been at home an hour ago. She had left Tessy 
learning a peculiar and beautiful lace stitch from 
Aunt Aurelia, and she did not want to seem neglect- 
ful. She would a little rather not have driven alone 
with Leonard, but these events must occur in their 
cousinly life, and she had resolved to give them no 
especial signification. 

He was a very delightful companion. There were 
many qualities that did command admiration. What 
if, after all, women had made second-best answer for 
their lives? 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 


75 


Not in love, her soul protested. 

Leonard was in no lover-like mood. She need not 
have struggled against fancied danger. And as they 
drove up a pretty picture was outlined against the back- 
ground of greenery. 

Aunt Aurelia was bending the least trifle over 
Tessy, and her slim white fingers were pointing out 
or guiding the smaller ones; Tessy ’s face had a serene 
intentness, a sweetness quite indescribable. 

Leonard checked Bonny an instant. 

“What a picture ! ” he said softly. “It ought to be 
photographed. Aunt Aurelia is lovely at this moment. 
What a pity you can’t have people at their best! 
Paul should see it. Why, it is almost as fine as read- 
ing Homer. How very pretty Tessy Murray is! 
She’s a sort of Wordsworth girl: 

“ ‘ Her eyes are like the twilight fair, 

Like twilight, too, her dusky hair.’ ” 

Aunt Aurelia glanced up, and after an instant 
smiled as she nodded. 

“We were talking about you,’’ said the young man. 
“At least / was, and Dell listened without an objec- 
tion. The receiver is as bad as the thief. A clear 
case of scandal.’’ 

“Did you scandalize us very much?’’ inquired 
Tessy, lifting her soft, sweet eyes. 

“You cannot compel a witness to criminate him- 
self. What sort of a conspiracy were you and Aunt 
Aurelia hatching?’’ 

Tessy colored, and the creamy skin was like the ripe 
side of a peach. Then she held up her small hoop. 

“We are making lace,’’ she said. “You can fancy 
it is about the twelfth century. Here are the lady and 


76 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


her maidens — all but one imaginary. And the donjon 
keep ” Raising the long dark lashes for a glimpse. 

“And the pilgrim coming home from the wars. I 
haven’t any palmer’s staff. Neither am I in rags. 
But, Aunt Aurelia, if you will give me some luncheon 
or dinner ’’ 

“We are old-fashioned enough to have dinner.” 

Leonard threw himself into an easy-chair by her 
side, with his inimitable ease. 

“Then we can go on with the play,” he continued, 
with a touch of gayety. “Maiden, allow me to 
inspect your work. If it is not satisfactory, you shall 
be relegated to some lonely cell.” 

“You have nothing to do with it,” said Aunt 
Aurelia, smiling over at the handsome face alight 
with mirth. “You are no judge of lace.” 

“Well, this is very curious — beautiful, I suppose, 
only you can hardly tell by such a little bit. Miss 
Murray. I think I will order a dozen yards on trust. 
Can you make a yard a day?” 

“A yard?” said Tessy aghast, but her eyes shining 
in merriment. “This is the kind of lace that is worth 
a duke’s ransom. It would bankrupt you to paj for a 
dozen yards.” 

“Alas!” in a tragic manner. 

“And gentlemen no longer wear lace frills.” 

“But I could give it to the lady of my love. What 
a pity velvet coats and lace rufHes and all the pictur- 
esqueness of dress have gone out of fashion!” 

“My grandfather had one for full dress,” said Aunt 
Aurelia. “He would never give it up. And a flow- 
ered satin waistcoat, silk stockings, and great shoe 
buckles. I have his snuffbox and the buckles. 
There was a great deal of dignity in those days.” 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 


77 


Her face fell into rather severe lines. 

“And now we take some of this grandeur for 
bicycling suits, or an occasional masquerade. I sup- 
pose I can't order the lace, then! I am not willing to 
be bankrupted, for, look you, I have just begun my 
fortune. I wonder if the handsome women who have 
worn such a profusion of it this winter have bank- 
rupted anybody!” 

“It is so beautiful!” said Tessy softly, as if she 
could excuse the extravagance. 

Dell lingered upstairs. Gassy was altering some 
of the gowns, and explaining to Philly what must 
be ripped and sewed again. When she had tried on 
two of them the dinner bell rang. 

Aunt Aurelia was in a most agreeable mood. They 
lingered over their meal, chatting and laughing. 
Tessy said gay little things that were akin to wit, but 
were so sweet and sunny and full of good nature that 
she made Aunt Aurelia seem brilliant. Indeed, 
though Miss Sherburne could not have explained it, 
and certainly would have resented it had anyone told 
her, she did bring out some of her best things for 
the girl whom she had despised only a few years ago. 
Just as on that first visit, the rare old china and silver 
had been allowed for the sake of her interest in it. 
Leonard looked on with a little wonder. In what lay 
the subtle charm? How did she conquer by no 
apparent effort? They sauntered through the wide 
hall, where the wind wandered in great fragrant 
sweeps. 

“Now I am going to dismiss you,” he began. “I 
know Aunt Aurelia always takes a rest, and you girls 
had better follow so good an example. Isn’t there 
something about beauty sleep? Afterward we will all 


78 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


go over to Beaumanoir, and you can take supper with 
me.” 

Aunt Aurelia made a little demur. 

“Remember my brief holiday, and take pity on me. 
You have always spoiled me, you know; and now, like 
the tyrant that I am, I must have my way.” 

He put his arm over her shoulder, and turning her 
face, kissed her with a smile. Yes, she had helped to 
spoil him, and he was very dear to her now. 

“I shall have a book and the hammock. Addio!*' 
with a wave of the hand. 

Swinging slowly there in the shade of the trees, with 
the old house set like a picture in the midst of it all, 
he needed no book, but resigned himself to the old 
day dream. Could Lyndell Sherburne ever have the 
affection, the passion for this old place that he had.? 
She liked it and was proud of it, but the. ancestral love 
had not been born in her, ingrained in every fiber. 
No position or place, no ambition or fortune, could 
ever bring him such a perfect satisfaction. How 
many of his boyhood remembrances clustered around 
it ! He could see the old pictures of busy pleasantness, 
of joy and amusement : his grandfather, whose favorite 
he had always been; the old slaves so proud of him, 
so ready to run at his beck. 

It was a great thing lost out of his life, and some- 
how to-day it came back with a longing, hungering 
sense that nothing else could quite satisfy. Not so 
much the lost love as the lost home. In shame and 
humiliation he confessed that to himself. In a certain 
way he had come to love Lyndell dearly, he always 
should ; but he had wondered of late whether he would 
have been so resolved to marry her if she had not been 
the heiress of Sherburne House. She was not the 


OUT OF HER LOYALTY. 


79 


ideal wife he had imagined. Perhaps he would never 
meet her. Perhaps — he had grown in so many 
directions, changed so many foolish opinions — his 
ideal might change as well. 

Dell was worthy of a nobler love, of a better, 
grander type of man. Were there any men left like 
his father, like Dr. Carew? Could he bring himself 
up to finer heights for her sake? Would it be worth 
while to try on a less selfish foundation and win her 
over again, love her for herself alone and put Sher- 
burne House utterly aside? It seemed at supreme 
moments as if he might do this. And then came a 
grave question that had crossed his mind vividly more 
than once : would she love him in the highest, truest 
sense? 

She had loved him from a mistaken view of heroic 
duty, and he had loved her because Sherburne House 
was dear to him. 


CHAPTER VI. 


“and ye sale walk in silk attire.” 

M rs. LONGWORTH joined a quiet party in 
which there were some savants and literary 
people going to Spain, and expecting to take in the 
opposite shore of the Mediterranean. She was quite 
too correct to join the votaries of fashion or pleasure 
in her mourning robes, and there were several in the 
party who would prove desirable acquaintances after- 
ward. Mrs. Longworth meant to be something 
beyond a mere arbiter of fashion. 

Mrs. Lepage would remain in Washington until 
Florence’s term at the convent ended, and then come 
down to Beaumanoir. Sherburne House would be 
too full of gloomy recollections, she wrote to her 
sister. But Alice came, rather against her mother’s 
wishes. 

“Do try to stay at Beaumanoir,” Mrs. Lepage said 
fretfully. “You get so gloomy and morbid with Aunt 
Aurelia. And Dell is full of fads and whims and 
poor folks and utter nonsense!” 

But Dell came over the next morning after her 
arrival and carried her off, much to her satisfaction. 

They two were quite alone with Bonny. They 
could take their time before the sun turned the air 
into liquid gold, while the branches overhead were all 
a soft, shadowy green, and the warmth had not 
absorbed the fragrance of the air. 


“ AJVn YE SALL WALK IN SILK A TTIREI' 8i 


“We need not hurry,” said Lyndell. “Aunt Julia 
has returned, and Tessy Murray is devoted to Aunt 
Aurelia. Not in any effusive manner ; indeed, I don’t 
know just what it is, but Tessy’s gentle pleasantness 
seems to fit in everywhere. I shall be so sorry to have 
her go. If it was anyone else I should be jealous, 
sometimes. I find out every day how far I am from 
angelhood.” 

“I’ve wanted you so much!” and Alice fairly 
gripped her cousin’s hand, so intense was the pressure. 

“Have you? I wish you had not gone away. It 
has been so cheerful, with all the going back and forth. 
Except Milly, who keeps herself in a strange sort of 
seclusion, but when she does come out of her shell she 
is more charming than ever. I have had the loveliest 
time.” Yes, it had been lovely, for she had not 
brooded over that deeper life underlying the daily 
good, and reaching out for what could not be ? 

The tears trembled in Alice’s eyes, and then she 
looked to the far-off bit of blue between the patches 
of tall pines. The mysterious discontent grew upon 
her. 

“And I want you to put by all the troubled 
thoughts and anxieties. I have something quite 
wonderful to tell you. Lady Ashton is coming on. 
There is some business in New York that the colonel 
must attend to, and she has set her heart on taking 
us back with her. It will be some time through the 
summer; indeed, it may be any time.” 

“Oh, if I could go! But I can’t. I must not even 
allow myself to dream over it.” 

“Why not? Ethel will not need you. Aunt 
Beaumanoir hoped we could keep you all summer.” 

“I might stay here. I could not go away — so far, 


82 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


1 know mamma would not consent. But it would be 
— heaven!” and her voice broke. 

“Aunt Lepage was very fond of Lady Ashton. 
Surely she would trust you to her. And you will not 
be likely to go into much society next winter.” 

“I — I don’t know.” Alice turned scarlet, looking 
away, then with a great effort back again. “I ought 
to tell you — I mus^ tell you, Dell, though mamma 
said I was not to speak of it. But I can’t let you 
go on planning a pleasure like this, and thinking 
in the end that I had not been honest with you. I 
am — almost engaged. That is, I have promised to 
consider, and answer in August, perhaps. But oh, I 
know it has all been considered, and it can end only 
one way.” 

“Alice, what have you done?” 

“Oh, Dell, don’t look that way at me! Do you 
know you curiously suggest Aunt Aurelia when she is 
displeased. And it seems to me as if I couldn’t bear 
anything more.” 

Alice gave a long, quivering sob, and yet she was 
not crying. Dell’s face softened immeasurably. 

“I think I could understand, if you cared. It is 
the giving in against your will that puzzles me.” 

“And I can’t care, in the sense of loving. If he 
didn’t love me so very much — and I can’t see why he 
should when there were dozens of girls eager for him.” 

Dell thought. Aunt Lepage liked him, and he was 
the good match she had hinted about. 

“I don’t see why you need marry until you want to; 
until you love someone,” said Dell, in a steady, mean- 
ing tone. “It’s the bother of a girl’s life — and the 
crown and blessing, I suppose,” she added, with a 
sudden solemn sense. 


“ AND YE SALE WALK IN SILK A TriRE." 83 

“Dell,” Alice said suddenly, “what made you draw 
back with Leonard? We all thought it would be an 
engagement. Mamma asked him last winter, and he 
said evasively that you must be free to choose where 
you liked, and that on his part it would look like ask- 
ing for Sherburne House. But it seemed to me that 
you did love each other. Forgive me, dear, but if 
you tried and the real love held aloof, you will 
know ” 

“I had a girl’s high, foolish thought of duty; of 
sacrificing myself that in some way everybody might 
be satisfied. And I did love him, but it was all the 
circumstances, not real soul election. I seem to love 
him now in almost the same manner. But I do not 
want to marry him. It isn’t a love like Milly’s or 
Violet’s. It might be that of a sister.” 

“No, I do not think you can understand,” Alice 
said slowly, while her cheek flushed and paled. 

“I can understand that no girl or woman ought to 
marry a man she did not love. You do not think of 
the sacredness of it early in life, its awful significance.” 

“There are so many kinds of marriages it confuses 
one. And some of them are very — well, comfortable, 
and some of the love matches turn out very badly. 
If one could be sure! But, Dell, you need not marry 
until you are certain,” with a sad longing in her 
voice. 

“Yes, there is enough and to spare. Alice, come, 
share it with me. What if I should not marry at all? 
A long while ago, the first summer I was here, I made 
a good deal of trouble for everybody. Then I 
repented. The doctor was the good shepherd who 
took me in his arms and led me back to the fold God 
had placed me in. I had a curious feeling for a 


84 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


while, that to truly make amends 1 ought to live with 
Aunt Aurelia and take care of her when she was old, 
and never marry. It might come true.” Her voice 
was a little tremulous. 

“But you wouldn’t, for choice?” Alice said in sur- 
prise, studying her curiously. 

‘‘It might be the result of some higher choosing 
than mine,” was the soft, grave answer. ‘‘Miss 
Neale has led a lovely life, and I am sure Aunt 
Aurelia has the respect of everybody. There are so 
many things to desire. Sometimes I feel as if I wanted 
to be out in the great world, doing the larger, 
grander work.” 

“And I would like a pretty home to keep, and 
someone who enjoyed it. I do not care about the 
strife and envyings of fashion,” with a faint smile. 
“I don’t see why this should have come to me when I 
didn’t want it. Oh, Dell, I wish it was possible to 
do something, but I see the ordinary educations do 
not fit a girl for the struggle of life, if she has no 
especial genius. I do envy Ethel her gift. And in 
the party she goes with there is such a fine young 
fellow, who is to illustrate a very interesting book on 
Spain; a lady who is quite famous as a brilliant 
correspondent and magazine writer, and ever so many 

smart people. If it had not cost so much to go 

So there is nothing for a poor girl but marriage. 
Mamma is so troubled about everything. Oh, Dell, 
it seems as if I miistd' 

“Violet was speaking of someone — a Mr. Phillips.” 
Dell looked at her cousin in amazement. 

‘‘That is the one. She met him in the winter. He 
used to come a good deal, but when I found that he 
was in earnest I tried hard not to encourage him. 


A N-D YE SALE WA LK IN SILK A TTIRE . ” 85 

And I think now, if I had gone to the other extreme, 
he would. not have been so eager. But he had a fancy 
nearly every girl wanted him. His vanity about it 
disgusted me. And yet it was true. He is very rich 
and gives elegant suppers to his friends, and some- 
times they do drink too much.” 

“Oh, Alice!” Dell cried, in entreaty. 

“Yes, it is dreadful. But he has promised to give 
it all up, and he is quite sure I can do so much to 
keep him in the right way. His parents are dead, 
and he has one bachelor uncle. His grandmother left 
him part of the fortune, and it is not to be touched 
until he is twenty-five, but has just been rolling itself 
up for ten years. After that, for ten years more he 
has only the interest. So there is a certainty for the 
future. Mamma thinks a great deal of that. He 
asked me the night before we had the last sad 
word from papa, and I refused him. But he came 
again, and while I was away he pleaded his cause to 
mamma and Ethel. He was in the party that went to 
Fortress Monroe. And mamma thinks it very noble 
in him to choose a poor girl when he might have a 
rich one.” 

It did seem so, even to Lyndell. She found her 
sympathies moving toward him. 

“Still, there are other points to consider.” Then 
Dell’s heart beat with a great throb. What if she had 
taken the future of another soul in her hands? She 
had never felt quite at ease about Anita, though her 
judgment approved. 

“If you loved him,” hesitatingly, after a pause. 
“If you thought you might in time to cpme.” 

“But I don’t. All our ideas are so different. He 
is bored so easily. He wants excitement all the time. 


86 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Oh, Dell, I am afraid that by and by, when I was 
very tired of it all, and perhaps faded a little, he 
would go his way, and oh, suppose I should be so 
thankful for a little rest that I wouldn’t keep my 
hand stretched out continually to save him ! He 
seems weak. I like strongmen. I really admire Mr. 
Longworth for that. And yet Mr. Phillips can be 
very obstinate.” 

“Can’t you resolve that you ought not to marry any 
man in whom you could not place implicit confidence?” 
Dell shrank from personal responsibility. The matter 
of advising did not look as easy as it had a few days 
ago. 

“And he says little things not quite true, not true 
at all. So many of them do. When one is just talk- 
ing for amusement ” 

“I should lose faith in anyone who told me a lie,” 
Dell said emphatically. 

“I suppose it is. hard to be true always. And, Dell, 
do you not think a great many people love to be flat- 
tered? Mr. Phillips does. Yet he professes to ad- 
mire my truth and simplicity, as he calls it.’’ 

“But why do you feel that you ought to accept 
him?’’ the younger girl asked, somewhat puzzled. 

‘ ‘ Oh, my dear ! matters are so bad with us. Mamma 
insists that we cannot be a burden on Mr. Longworth. 
And she thinks if I was well settled — there would be 
two nice homes, you see. And when Florence grows 
up she will be very handsome, and we could put her 
in the best society. I shall be twenty-two on my next 
birthday. Yes, I ought to do something. But it 
frightens me.’’ 

“And are you really engaged?’’ 

“Mamma has accepted him. I said truly that I 


“ AND YE SAIL WALK IN SILK A TTIRE," S7 

did not love him, but I promised to try. And last 
Saturday he sailed for Scotland, where he has some 
invitations to hunt or shoot — I’ve forgotten. He will 
be back in September. Oh, Dell ! if he would see 
some other girl! If he would cease to care forme! 
He wanted mamma to go to Bar Harbor, and then he 
would not have gone abroad so soon. Of course she 
really couldn’t afford to, and then we must have been 
out of society, mostly.” 

“I wish you would confide in Millicent,” Dell said, 
after some thought. “But you cannot live a true and 
lovely life with a wrong beginning.” 

“Everything seems so changed and confusing. 
Mamma has put it in the light of duty. She says 
what is true enough, that she has not hurried us into 
any choice. I have had so much that has been nice 
and pleasant — all that beautiful time abroad with you 
and the other cousins, and last summer again. But I 
can’t see just how to reconcile honest and true living 
with a wrong beginning, as you say. How can I ever 
get the strength to go against mamma and Ethel? If 
they would only be so vexed about it that they would let 
me stay down here always with you and Aunt Aurelia! 
Oh, Dell! help me to some courage in the matter. 
Would it be wrong to pray that Mr. Phillips might 
change his mind? Of course mamma would blame 
me for not promising positively. And then, if I didn’t 
marry, she would bewail the fact. Oh, what shall I 
do?” 

“You ought to pray for courage to do the right 
thing yourself,” Dell said, but in a softened tone. If 
she would go to Millicent! If there was not a curious 
consciousness in Dell’s mind that back of it all there 
was something that contributed to Alice’s indilference. 


88 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


And this impression was deepened with her cousin’s 
last sentence; 

“Sometimes I feel as if it could not make much 
difference; as if I should never be in the place where 
I could live out the best in me, the best that I want to 
be,” and the tone was infinitely sad. 

Dell did not glance at her, but she could feel the 
wavering color going over the fair face. So many 
little incidents seemed to array themselves in this 
leading. Had Paul Amory been at fault somewhere? 
Then her own cheek burned. Had anyone been at 
fault that the best and highest place should not come 
to her, but just pass her by with one swift glance? 
She would have no desecrated niches in her soul. 
Better a life of singleness forever. 

“So you see,” began Alice, “that I couldn’t take 
the journey with you, even if you were generous 
enough to proffer it out of pure love. Mamma wouldn ’ t 
consent.” 

“It might cut the Gordian knot,” and Dell smiled. 
“It would give him a longer time to be true.” 

The swift scarlet flashed over the young girl’s face. 
But Dell sat unconscious of any deeper meaning. 

They were winding up the avenue, and now the 
sun was growing hot. 

“VVe must take our drive over again to-morrow. 
We have not looked at one of the beautiful pictures, 
and there were so many. The whole earth is glad.” 

“You are very good to be so patient and interested 
in all my worries. I ought to have more self-reliance. 
Have I spoiled your morning, dear?” Alice looked 
up with pitiful entreaty. 

“A drive can easily be repeated ” 

“But a life spoiled in the beginning cannot be lived 


“ AATjO VE sail IVALBT /AT STLK A TTlREr 89 

over,” Alice interrupted quickly. “It appears so 
different out here in the beautiful calm of nature. 
Dell, let me have a few days for resolution before we 
talk it over again. Oh, how cool and lovely Sher- 
burne looks ! And there is Aunt Aurelia ! Oh, who is 
the lovely little girl ? Surely that isn’ t Tessy Murray ? ’ ’ 

But it was, and dinner also awaited them. Alice 
had a headache and was glad of a rest afterward, glad 
to excuse herself. 

‘‘She looks very much worn,” Aunt Aurelia said. 
‘‘She must have a nice quiet time and get rested. I 
am glad you are not in the whirl of fashionable life, 
Dell,” and she glanced approvingly at the tall, rosy 
girl, with her face of content. 

That evening’s mail brought a note from Lady 
Ashton, brief, and written in great haste. 

‘‘We shall reach New York two days after this 
letter [it said]. I would ask you to come up, but we 
may have to go to Washington at once. Will it be 
convenient to take us in at Sherburne House?” 

“Why, yes,” said Aunt Aurelia cheerfully. ‘‘In- 
deed I don’t know how we could spare you to go away 
now. What do you suppose keeps Millicent so much 
engrossed? Surely they are not beginning to think of 
the wedding so soon.” 

It had puzzled Dell. Millicent seemed in a curious 
little world of her own. She spent hours in her 
room, and no one disturbed her. There was a touch 
^ of abstraction in her moods now and then, as if she 
was living on some rare, intense satisfaction. Aunt 
Beaumanoir seemed to .shield her from observation, as 
if she was in the secret. Was it Bertram Carew’s love 


90 


A SHERBURNE ROMA AXE. 


that they wanted no one to remark just yet? For 
Bertram was corresponding with her. Dell had seen 
several letters directed in his hand. 

“It is curious how many things come in between,” 
she said to herself. “I wonder if I have been selfish 
in wanting too much of Milly? I believe it is a fault. 
I want a good deal of everybody. And yet I am 
willing Aunt Aurelia shall have Tessy, though it does 
crowd me out, only I am so busy,” and she gave her 
soft, bright laugh to the twilight. 

Yes, she was very busy. There were so many little 
things in life that never told. Was she sure of that? 
Had they not gone to make Miss Neale one of the 
sweetest and best loved women in the small world 
about her? And you could put Miss Neale at the 
head of an orphan asylum or some institution, and how 
admirably she would fill it. But oh ! she would not 
want to go away from her home, and her poor, and 
her beloved brother. Oh, how could they do without 
Bertram? Yet, she, Dell, was selfish; she admitted 
it with humiliation. She really wanted the people she 
loved dearly. She wanted Millicent a good deal of 
the time. She and Millicent never would do any- 
thing together now, as she had vaguely dreamed. 
She thought of one being taken and the other left — 
she would be left. 

The impatience and unreason of youth is so natural. 
It IS indeed youth. With its eagerness to reach some 
grand fulfillment, some divine satisfaction! And with 
experience we learn that the exceptional only comes 
in rare hours; that we cannot fit it to the daily 
common life; that, indeed, we should soon exhaust 
ourselves in the rarefied atmosphere. 

And there was Alice to think about. It seemed 


‘ ‘ A ND YE SA LL WA LK IN SILK A T TIRE I' 9 1 


hard to stand aside in the trial hour of any soul, and 
watch the struggle toward the goal. But if she 
should over-persuade? If she should incur the anger 
of Aunt Lepage, and, indirectly. Aunt Aurelia’s dis- 
pleasure? For after all, z, good marriage seemed the 
great desideratum. Violet’s engagement was good 
even in that sense. And though tliere were very tender 
love and many aims for the future that were to reach 
up to the best of real living, Dell wondered, if Mr. 
Amory had been poor and unknown, how it would 
have ended. But she couldn’t imagine Violet being 
the wife of a poor man. Milly might. There were 
so many things she could do to make household life 
run smoothly. But dainty, delicate Violet, with her 
grace and beauty and refinement! 

“I don’t believe I should like to be poor myself 
now,” she thought. “And I am sure Tessy would 
not. It is not poverty that makes people noble, 
surely, for there is so much that is mean and degrad- 
ing and cruel among the poor. They are brought up 
to it and can’t help it, and it isn’t always their fault. 
I suppose it is the right use of money that makes it a 
blessing.” Then she smiled a little as one of Miss 
Neale’s sentences came to her; dear Miss Neale, who 
had a golden text for everything. 

“To do good, and to distribute, forget not.” 
Forget not! That came to her with a new sense; 
always remembering that earnestness of purpose and 
tenderness of heart went with the gift. 

“But that doesn’t settle the question whether it is 
right to give one’s life and soul for it, as a man 
might in doing some great wrong, or a woman in 
marrying for it. And it isn’t right for Alice. But 
who can counsel her against it?” 


m 


92 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Dell was in a sore strait. All day long she kept 
herself busy, not evading Alice, but not falling into 
the mood that persuades a confidence. Alice was 
over her headache, and quite bright. Tessy was so 
full of inviting interest in everything, it almost seemed 
as if she divined some restlessness and ministered 
to it. 

The evening mail brought several letters for her. 
She went up to her own room to read them. Tessy 
had one from Bertram Carew among hers, about a 
poor little pensioner of hers who had gone from a 
comfortless home to a hospital for an operation. And 
at the last, when all was favorable, the small residue 
of strength had given out. If they could have found 
her sooner! 

Alice came down on the veranda presently. Her 
face was very pale and her eyes had a strained expres- 
sion, as if she had hardly slept. 

“Let us walk down the avenue,” and she held out 
her hand to Dell, who felt it tremble nervously. 

Quite out of the hearing of anyone, around the 
house they went. Alice had two letters in her hand. 

“This is from mamma,” she began huskily. “I 
should not let you read it, but I have quite decided 
now. I’ve been wrestling with it all day. I /lad 
made up my mind, I think, before Gifford’s letter 
came, but that settled it. Oh, Dell! you must help 
me bear mamma’s displeasure. I never could endure 
anger and coldness. I always give in.” 

Dell held it up to the waning light with a feeling of 
disloyalty, and a color mounted to her brow as she 
saw her own name. Mrs. Lepage had requested her 
daughter to remain at Beaumanoir until she came 
down^ to see as little of Lyndell as possible, and on no 


“ AArn YE SALE WALK IN SILK A TTIRE." 93 

account to discuss the engagement. Nothing was to 
be said about it until Mr. Phillips’ return. Florence’s 
examinations had just begun, and in about ten days 
they would both be down to make plans for the 
summer. She wanted no foolish girl gossip about the 
matter. 

“And I have disobeyed her beforehand,” admitted 
Alice, with a sad little smile. “I think she is most 
afraid of you, Dell. You are so honest and sturdy 
and clear-eyed. Now read Gifford’s. I thought it 
over last night until 1 was almost wild. And I feel 
now that my own impressions were correct, but I was 
afraid of misjudging him because I did not want to 
marry him.” 

There was a page or two of irrelevant matter, then 
Gifford began: 

“I saw mother last night, and really wrung from 
her the fact that you are engaged to Vincent 
Phillips. It is enough perhaps to tempt almost 
any girl, and if you had as much strength of will as 
Ethel I shouldn’t feel so utterly opposed to it — if it 
came to anything. We hear a good deal of talk about 
his doings and his extravagances, and some evil habits 
that might not reach mamma or women in general. I 
know how anxious mamma feels, and I am truly sorry 
for her, and ashamed that I cannot stand in the 
breach and care for you all, or that Harry is not here 
to comfort and sustain. But I know Aunt Aurelia 
will be good to you and give you a home until better 
times, and Dell will be the kindest and most generous 
of sisters. Have you really been dazzled by young 
Phillips? He has a large fortune, but, at the rate he 
is going, it will hardly last a lifetime. His habits are 


94 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


bad, vicious ; and lie is dissipated — perhaps not more 
so than some other young men of fashion, but I think 
I have the best right, through my own great sorrow 
and repentance, to warn you. Oh, Alice! do not let 
your tender heart plead for him and consign yourself 
to a lifelong unhappiness, or divorce after a few years. 

I do not see what there is about him to win the regard 
of a girl like you who has no great longing for fashion- 
able dissipation. But try, my darling Alice, to uproot 
what little tenderness you have for him, and do not 
be tempted by the money. 

“The other reason is this: He has been engaged 
twice already. I do not think you can depend upon 
his word. So many young men feel free to make half 
love to any girl who takes their fancy, and who is not 
scrupulously guarded. I admit few mothers would 
refuse him. Still, I should not like your name 
coupled with his, only to have you thrown over in the 
end. If there has been a promise, will you not con- 
sider and retract it? At least, do not answer any 
letter of his until you have seen me. And forgive 
mamma if, in her anxiety, she has overpersuaded you.” 

Dell clasped her arms about her cousin in heartfelt 
gratitude. 

“It is given up, then!” she exclaimed. “I did not 
dare advise strongly, but I hoped there would be 
someone to do it.” 

“I felt it was not the right thing,” interrupted 
Alice. “There is some fascination about him at first, 
a certain enthusiasm that bends itself to your ways 
and thoughts and beliefs; a seeming desire to be 
something better for your sake. It is flattering, too; 
yet after a little you are afraid it may not be sincere. 


“ AATD YE SALL WALK IN SILK A TTIREr 95 


And I couldn’t understand just why he wanted me. I 
didn’t suppose in the early stages it was anything 
more than society’s effusiveness, and did not take him 
in real earnest. But he was so tender and sympathetic 
when papa died, that I did yield a little and let myself 
think — be tempted. Of course, as he said, he could 
afford to marry a girl without any fortune.” 

“That did look chivalrous.” 

‘‘But there were handsomer girls and real society 
belles. It puzzles me even now. If he had not been 
in earnest, he would not have spoken so positively to 
mamma. And I am not the kind of girl he needs for 
a wife. I understand that. He has a hard sort of 
frivolity about him, and I am afraid he doesn’t believe 
truly in any real goodness — I would take Gifford’s 
word. I was sure last night that it could not go on. 
I prayed that something might happen to prevent 
it. And a queer little thing did.” 

There was a tremble in Alice’s voice. 

“As what?” said Dell, filling in the pause. 

‘‘I went to Aunt Aurelia’s room to get a bit of lace 
she had laid out on the table and forgotten. It was 
great-grandmamma’s, I think. Her Bible was open, 
and my eye fell on one sentence: ‘Speak to the 
children of Israel that they go forward.’ There was 
no sign to be given, no help outside of themselves. 
They had just to go forward. It seemed meant for 
me. Don’t despise me,/Dell, but I have been trying 
all the afternoon to get courage to go forward and 
say I would’ not do this thing, and now I have 
resolved.” 

“Oh, my dear, thank God!” said Dell from the 
depths of her heart, giving her cousin an enthusiastic 
hug. 


96 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“I hated to disappoint mamma. I know she has 
set her hopes upon it. It would have been a triumph, 
of course.” 

“Yes, I can see that a girl even might be proud of 
it, if she was very worldly.” 

“It has tempted me. I am not as strong and noble 
as you think. I am only trying to be. Oh, Dell! do 
you suppose Aunt Aurelia will approve? The real 
world is so different from our little world. Most 
people would consider me foolish in the extreme.” 

“I feel certain you will find a good friend in Aunt 
Aurelia. You must let her read Gifford’s letter. I 
am sure she would advise the same course.” 

“It is very hard to go against your own mother 
when she is in trouble and believes truly that she is 
seeking your good ; that her experience and wisdom are 
better than a girl’s narrow knowledge. But I feel so 
relieved. It has weighed on me like a nightmare. It 
has taken all the real heart out of life for the last three 
months. Did you think I had changed?” 

“You seemed very nervous. Your father’s death 
accounted for some of it, and we thought you quite 
worn out. Yes, I see how it was.” 

“I could not stand fashionable dissipation as Ethel 
does. It has no real purpose, and wearies me. Dell, 
will you let me come and grow old along with Aunt 
Aurelia? We seem to gravitate to Sherburne House. 
I am afraid we all lay burdens on you.” 

“I fancy they do not weigh me down to despair,” 
with her light, heartsome laugh. What if they both 
grew old together here at Sherburne House, with an 
unconfessed “might have been” in each heart? Dell 
kissed her cousin fondly. 


CHAPTER VII. 


A REAL LOVER. 

D ell and Tessy were out a long while the next 
morning. Mrs. Kirby was fain to keep them all 
day, but Dell was curious to know the result of Alice’s 
confidence. 

Aunt Aurelia’s face satisfied her. She had come to 
read most of its meanings. Alice was a little flushed 
and showed traces of tears. 

“Dell,” said Miss Sherburne, after dinner, “will 
you come to my room a few moments?” 

What a terror this had been years ago ! She 
glanced up with a bright smile, and followed her aunt. 

‘T have been listening to Alice’s story this morn- 
ing,” she began gravely. “I think she has made a 
wise decision. Of course if she loved this Mr. 
Phillips — but after Gifford’s protest it would not be a 
wise engagement. Mrs. Lepage will consider that we 
have all interfered, so we must befriend poor Alice.” 

“I shall be only too glad.” Dell squeezed Miss 
Aurelia’s hand. She dared to take little liberties now- 
adays, cordial caresses. 

“You have been very generous to your cousins, my 
dear. Money is the least part of generosity. The 
perceptions of possible good out of the things we have 
struggled against in our self-will comes slowly to some 
of us, but it is never too late. We learn to see more 
clearly, and are more ready to appreciate happiness, 


97 


98 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


more ready to care for that of others. And now shall 
we join to make Alice a happy girl, brave enough to 
bear her mother’s displeasure?” 

‘‘Oh, Aunt Aurelia! let us keep her here until she 
wants to go away of her own accord.” 

‘‘Yes, she told me of your thought. Let us join 
hands in doing it. The home, of course, has no real 
money value to either of us. But if we agreed in giv- 
ing her an income she would feel more at ease, and 
would not be dependent upon her mother. Gifford, 
of course, can do nothing for the family. I shall 
educate Florence. There may be a little saved out of 
the wreck, and Edith has the best right to that. I 
could give Alice a sufficient income for all her 
wants ” 

‘‘Oh, Aunt Aurelia! it would be such a pleasure to 
me,” interrupted Dell. ‘‘And I have so much more 
than anyone thought. I ought to do something, but 
no one is in real need, save Alice.” 

Aunt Aurelia gave a gentle sigh. Was it for any 
lost hope? Could she think of anyone in need of love? 

‘‘I knew you would like it,” she returned, in a 
gratified tone. ‘‘And I suppose you would rather 
explain it to Uncle Beaumanoir. I must not take the 
credit of your kindly deeds. He had offered Alice a 
home until better times. Ethel will no doubt be gen- 
erous with her when the keenest disappointment is 
over. I shall be glad to have two girls.” 

She bent and kissed her, and Dell went to find Alice 
with a light heart. She knew Aunt Julia would be 
delighted as well. They two could join to give her 
more liberty. It was hard for her to stay at Sher- 
burne House so much when she could be away having 
good times with Uncle Stanwood. To be sure, she 


A REAL LOVER. 


99 


could go away on her little vacations feeling that the 
boys Avere in good hands, and they were hardly old 
enough to be sent away to school. 

Milly drove over with the baby and Cecil, and stayed 
to supper. Uncle Beaumanoir came for her, and 
Dell laid her plan before him. 

“We are going to adopt Alice,” she said enthu- 
siastically, her face in a joyous glow. 

“How many more?” he asked humorously. “You 
seem bent on gathering a family together. How does 
your other prot/g^e fare?” 

Dell’s bright face clouded over. 

“I hope everything is going right?” anxiously. 

“It is right enough in one way. She studies hard, 
and her course is satisfactory to Mrs. Weir. But I 
think she doesn’t care much about me. I have given 
her a choice as to where and how her vacation should 
be spent, and she has chosen to go to some little 
town with one of the teachers. Mrs. Weir approves 
of it.” 

Mr. Beaumanoir Avas relieved, though his tone did 
not express all he felt when he said: 

“I think it an excellent plan.” 

“I should like to see her. But she does not seem 
to care,” Dell exclaimed regretfully. 

“Naturally she Avould hesitate about coming here.” 

“But I could go to her.” 

“I should Avant her to express some desire.” 

Lyndell flushed with a touch of mortification. 

It seemed, the following day, as if Alice had gone 
back five years. Her eyes had a clear bright light, 
and the soft tint in her cheeks, the half smile that 
hovered about her lips, brought aneAv the girlishness 
it had been a sad thing to miss. When her mother 


lOO 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


came Uncle Beaumanoir would take the onus of an 
explanation. 

At noon there was a telegram from Lady Ashton. 
They would be there by the afternoon train. 

Tessy and Dell went over in the carriage. Alice 
had some callers. They stopped a few moments to 
see Miss Neale, and then drove over to the station. 
There were not many passengers. The two girls 
watched eagerly. No lame soldierly man stepped 
out, but someone carefully handed Lady Ashton to 
the platform, and then glanced around. 

Dell was so surprised at the moment that, though 
she had her hand raised, she did not wave it as had 
been her first joyful intention. 

“Go, Julius,” she said. “Oh, it is Mr. Osborne!” 

Yes it was Mr. Bevis Osborne, stouter than when he 
had parted with her in London, and she thought 
handsomer. She leaned out of the carriage. Julius 
was taking the satchel and the trunk check. 

“My dear Lyndell!” cried Lady Ashton. “You 
have changed indescribably, and yet I should have 
known you anywhere.” 

“But where is Colonel Ashton?” asked Dell, in 
alarm. 

’ “Oh, haven’t I explained anywhere? Why, that is 
quite unpardonable ! I am sure I said it was a ques- 
tion which should come.” 

Dell held out her hand to Mr. Osborne with a bright 
smile of welcome. “We are glad to see him anyway,” 
she said eagerly. “It was only the surprise.” 

He looked disconcerted a moment. “I should 
have come later on, if not now,” he said, with a touch 
of gravity. “I have wanted to see how the merry 
London party fulfilled the promise of their girlhood.” 


A REAL LOVER. 


lOI 


There was a subtle indication of satisfaction, nay, 
more, admiration in his glance that brought a delicate 
color to Dell’s face. 

“The plan was changed only a few hours before 
starting. The colonel had a fall some weeks ago, and 
his old wound troubled him. Then there was so much 
business to do, and he has grown rather indolent. He 
doesn’t love to hurry around. And in sending tele- 
grams I must have omitted it. A stupid blunder! 
and I am very sorry.” 

“Oh, it cannot matter.” She felt very glad to see 
Mr. Osborne again, and she would not allow Lady 
Ashton to blame herself. 

“I find I am not of as much account as the colonel. 
It is rather mortifying to one’s vanity, and I ''have a 
good deal,” Mr. Osborne admitted. 

Lady Ashton was being helped into the old car- 
riage, and Tessy properly introduced. Julius had 
taken possession of the trunk. Now he mounted the 
driver’s seat and touched his hat. 

“You see we are quite Americanized,” began Mr. 
Osborne. “We have learned to combine business 
with pleasure. I am the business partner in the 
concern.” 

“And I have wanted some of you girls so muclv 
But I am getting quite settled and am really in love 
with our new home and the wonderful land. And the 
colonel is the most obstinate case of conversion — or 
shall we call it perversion? Lady Trenholme would. 
You hardly dare mention Canada or Australia as 
places of emigration in his presence. He would turn 
half of England over into California. It is a land of 
perfect romance, and we have most of the appliances 
of civilization and intelligence. Miss Ashton is to 


102 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


come in the autumn and winter with us. And 1 want 
a regular house party for months. Ought I to warn 
you that I am on a kidnaping expedition?” 

Dell laughed, with shining eyes. “I think I am an 
American of the Americans. And I long to see all 
the wonders of my own land. Perhaps my sense of 
comparison may be improved by what has gone before. 

‘‘There is a great deal of man’s handiwork on the 
other side. Nations cannot exist without leaving 
some traces of themselves behind, even the prehistoric 
man,” with a humorous gleam in his eyes. “It is a 
relief now and then to get back to nature, but we are 
trying to reduce her mighty forces, and I am afraid 
we shall end by destroying her magnificent beauty.” 

‘‘Oh, Bevis! no one ever can take away the Rocky 
Mountains, and the Yosemite Valley is safe from the 
iconoclast. And the beautiful coast! Then there is 
that wonderful Alaska. Yes, you must see it all. Do 
you young Americans realize your vast and magnifi- 
cent heritage?” 

“No, we do not,” admitted Tessy earnestly. “We 
sometimes tliink there is nothing outside of New 
York. But Virginia is beautiful, too.” 

They seemed in the very heart of the woods. And 
yet it was only a space between. Dell flushed sud- 
denly. Here was the green nook in which she had 
unburdened her trouble to Dr. Carew, with Anita sit- 
ting in her phaeton just yonder. How long ago it 
seemed! Yet it was much farther back that Mr. 
Osborne had come into her life. She could remember 
so many delightful episodes. He looked so strong, so 
manly sitting there, so in earnest about everything, 
and he had not forgotten the beginnings, either. They 
talked over Trenholme. They laughed at the aesthetic 


A REAL LOVER. 


103 


evening in London, and Mr. Amory’s picture that had 
grown out of it. When she raised her eyes there was 
a depth of expression in them, the abstraction of 
remembering something that could never quite pass 
away, as one looks at a spiritual vision in moments of 
exaltation. The startled flush in her face seemed to 
go down to the inmost depths of her soul. 

“We will go around the Beaumanoir road,” she 
said to Julius. She was not ready to take any 
unknown thing into her life so suddenly. 

“There have been changes all about you, if they 
have not touched you,” Lady Ashton began. 
“Marrying and marriages to come. It always seemed 
hard to me that just as the confidential and appreci- 
ative age between mothers and daughters was reached, 
some stranger should come in and bear off the fruit of 
your years of endeavor. Miss Ethel, I suppose, is 
very happy. Some newspaper correspondent spoke 
of her as one of the social successes of the season. 
And Alice ” tentatively. 

“Alice is staying with us,” said Dell. If she had 
glanced up, she might have been puzzled again. 

“I am glad. I am hungry for a household of girls 
after these years of two men. The colonel’s brother 
had a very charming daughter, but after the manner 
of women she married and is up at Portland.” 

“If you wanted them to stay single, you set them a 
bad example,” subjoined Mr. Osborne. 

“I don’t suppose we do, really.” Lady Ashton 
colored a little. “A happy marriage is a woman’s 
best portion.” 

“You can almost vie with old England here,” Mr. 
Osborne said, as they paused to glance up the wind- 
ing avenue at Beaumanoir. 


104 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

“You will like Sherburne House better still,” the 
lady said. “It is charming.” 

He thought he did as they came upon it. The 
leafy arcades thinned out, there were subtle reflections 
of light and color in the air, from the sun setting 
behind the hills. Faint purples and saffrons blending 
into violet up in the nearer spaces, and thinning again 
to pale translucent greens and varying lines of pink. 
The wide fagade of the house lay in deeper shadow, 
giving it an almost weird perspective. 

Win had been running races with Floyd, and stopped 
suddenly in a most picturesque attitude. Alice rose 
out of the vista of vines. Her thin black gown of 
some soft, tissue-like material seemed artistic draping 
for the slim figure, and enhanced the fairness of her 
skin and the soft bronze gold of her hair. She 
glanced at the carriage, then stood quite still. Mrs. 
Sherburne and Aunt Julia came forward with their 
hospitable greetings. When the introduction and the 
little explanation had ended, Mr. Osborne turned to 
Alice Lepage, and took both hands in his clasp. 

And Dell knew then. The indescribable expres- 
sion of rare, fine understanding flashed up in her 
cousin’s face, bringing its veil of scarlet, its sudden 
white tremulousness, and then the informing knowl- 
edge settled to a beautiful calm. Only a moment or 
two, right in the midst of the talk; but it seemed a 
question asked and answered. 

Dell was overwhelmed with a passing shame, and 
then she smiled with a curious sense of relief. Bevis 
Osborne had not crossed the continent for /ler sake. 
And she had been quite mistaken as to where Alice’s 
fancy lay. She was very glad, even if her own pene- 
tration had been at fault. 


A REAL LOVER. 


105 

The guests were shown to their respective chambers. 
Dell and Tessy went to freshen themselves up. 
Alice Lepage sat quite still in a corner of the porch. 
That this should happen so; that she had been 
saved from her own too easily persuaded will; that 
her hands were clean, the hands he had taken in a 
clasp that meant so much, free from any promise! 
For two days ago she had written, lest her mother’s 
entreaties should again overcome her resolution. 

Tessy and Dell were in white. Mr. Osborne was 
very much interested in Miss Ashton’s favorite, that 
she confessed she coveted and was fain to take for 
“good and all.” “As if a single woman past the 
uncertain age might not indulge in a little motherly 
feeling,’’ she had urged in excuse. And certainly, 
he admitted, Tessy Murray was quite a picture in 
herself. 

Mr. Osborne’s stay just now must be brief. He 
must be back in Washington to-morrow evening to 
meet some parties on business. 

“We are all seized with a money-making mania in 
this new world,’’ he said laughingly. “I think it 
must be in the air. And when a grand scheme enters 
the mind we have to start about it at once, lest some 
other person’s mind may be equally inventive. The 
main thing seems to be to get there first. That is 
very slangy and reprehensible, isn’t it?’’ glancing up, 
with a humorous smile. “But we are first, and we 
want to reap the benefit of priority and add to our 
fortunes. ’’ 

“And the colonel thought Mr. Osborne better 
equipped for running around and doing the talking,’’ 
declared Lady Ashton. “Everything seems to require 
so much talking. It is a grand scheme of irrigation 


lo6 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

that will benefit a large tract of country — make it 
extremely valuable.” 

‘‘And two men in Washington own a great deal of 
the land. Whether they will be willing to sell, or 
whether they will join us, is the question. We did 
not want any agent or go-between to make a fortune 
out of both sides and leave us in the lurch, nor any 
syndicate to tie us up. I do not know how eloquent 
or persuasive I can be ” 

Dell half intercepted the glance that went over to 
Alice and brought a wavering flush to her fair face. 

After supper the young people went strolling about 
the lawn. Alice kept close beside Tessy, the new 
knowledge was so strange she was not ready to face 
it. Mr. Osborne amused them all with some gay 
stories. Was he rea//y in love. Deli wondered. To 
her impatient nature it seemed as if he must be long- 
ing with fervent passion to tell the story of the two 
years. Oh, what if he had been too late! 

The soul that held his love, that had dreamed over 
it without any adjustment of relationship, like many 
a young girl seeing possibilities and not knowing for 
whom they may be intended, not daring to stretch out 
her hand until some certain sign was given, was con- 
tent with what had been shown. And so they talked 
away the early summer evening amid the sweet night 
sounds and fragrances until the tardy moon began to 
silver the interstices of the trees, and make silvery 
wavering patches on the walk, and give a magic 
touch to the short grass. 

They all said a cordial good-night. Alice went to 
Aunt Aurelia’s room, and stayed so long that she 
merely called a soft, sweet good-night to the girls in 
their darkened apartments. 


A REAL LOVER. 


T07 


But Dell seemed curiously wakeful. Something 
out of the common routine had touched her. A 
strange, new experience, not hers, but so near, 
bounded and saved by such a narrow margin ! The 
very sense of the escape thrilled her. She lived so 
much in other people’s lives. 

There was a difference between Mr. Osborne and 
most of the men she met. He impressed one with 
strength, certainly; as if he knew what he wanted, 
and knew how to set about getting it in a high, manly 
fashion. To be sure, he was years older than Leonard 
or Bertram Carew. Yes, young Dr. Carew had some 
of this inspiriting force. Oh, would any romance like 
this happen to her, any real surprise of love? 

Dell Sherburne buried her scarlet face in the pillow. 

Had she dreamed all this, she asked herself in the 
morning? Mr. Osborne was so very friendly with all 
of them. They made a tour of the house and looked 
at the hundred year agone portraits, down to the 
modern one of Miss Lyndell Sherburne. They went 
out to the quarters, and some of the little darkies 
danced and sang for Mr. Osborne. They drove over 
to Beaumanoir, and it was so late that Aunt Laura 
would keep them to luncheon, especially as Mr. 
Osborne and Mr. Beaumanoir were in the midst of an 
animated talk. Millicent and Violet were lovely and 
at their best. 

And all this time Alice had been strangely shy and 
sweet, and Mr. Osborne — well, not indifferent, since 
Dell held the clew, but otherwise she would not have 
suspected. 

“We shall keep Lady Ashton indefinitely," said Mrs. 
Stanwood. “And we shall look for you whenever you 
have a little leisure. Can you not give us Sunday?” 


io8 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“To-day is Thursday; why, yes, I think so. At all 
events you can’t be such heathens here at the East as 
to keep to business the whole seven days. Saturday, 
then, if it is convenient to you. Thank you for your 
kindly hospitality.” 

He held Alice’s hand as if loath to give it up. But 
that was all. No word of any kind. No sweet confi- 
dence to be shared. 

But there was very little time for sentimental 
reveries during the next forty-eight hours. There 
were so many things to talk over with Lady Ashton. 
Blanche Trenholme was engaged. Did they remember 
a Mr. Blythe that they met at Trenholme Court? He 
was getting to be quite famous on account of some plans 
for a church and a townhall. There was another 
Miss Trenholme going to be introduced shortly. 

“And with all the children, she cannot spare me 
one. I think I shall be compelled to apply to an 
orphan asylum,” declared Lady Ashton. 

Certainly, if she mistrusted, she did not make the 
slightest sign. She was very tender to young girls, a 
true and lovable woman who should have had a house- 
ful of them. 

Leonard came down with Mr. Osborne on Satur- 
day. Mr. Beaumanoir had given him a note to his 
son, and Leonard had been interested at once, indeed 
proved of some real service. 

It quite changed the aspect of affairs. Leonard 
took possession of Dell and Tessy. Lyndell made 
no demur, though she readily gave Tessy the larger 
share of her cousin. They had some very amusing 
skirmishes, in which Tessy’s wit gained her the advan- 
tage not infrequently. Mr. Osborne and Alice fell a 
little behind and presently strayed off altogether. 


A REAL LOVER. 


109 

“I shall be over again to-morrow," Leonard said 
with his good-night to everybody. It was quite like 
old times to have him so much at home. Lady Ash- 
ton was absolutely charmed with him, one could see. 

"Everybody is hurrying out of town, "he said, "and 
I am longing to take up the role of a gentleman of 
leisure. Or else I’ll go out to California and cast in 
my lines with Mr. Osborne. They have a tremendous 
thing, if it gets engineered through rightly. But it will 
take time." 

And then a quiet, restful Sunday ; the two draw- 
ing nearer together: Mr. Osborne taking a curious, 
vaguely defined right, and Alice yielding with a shy 
timidity. Did anyone see? 

They were going to take Lady Ashton over to Dr. 
Carew’s to spend Monday. Miss Neale had made 
her call and given her invitation. And then a day at 
Beaumanoir. Mr. Osborne would be coming and 
going until the last of the week, when he had to be in 
New York. He and Miss Sherburne were out on the 
porch while the others were getting ready, as he was 
to go to Ardmore with them. Alice was curiously 
grave, almost troubled, it seemed, with a soft color 
like twilight shadows in her face. 

But when he said good-by to her, Dell knew the 
story had been told. And she was going to stay at 
home with Aunt Aurelia! Lyndell felt defrauded. 

Yet it was a happy day. How could it be other- 
wise at Dr. Carew’s? Dell was mysteriously thought- 
ful, with all kinds of vague questioning. How was it 
that Tessy Murray fitted in here as if she had grown 
up with them all. Everywhere she seemed to infuse 
some subtle influence of her own, a gentle yet piquant 
individuality. 


I lO 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


It was quite dusk when they came home, but the 
summer evenings were long now. Dell ran upstairs 
to change her gown ; she was warm and a little dusty 
after the drive. 

“Dell” — softly, with a tremor in the voice. 

“Oh, Alice ! May I guess? But I have known 
it ever since he came. To think of all this time! 
Oh, what if ” 

“If I had lost it in that way, I think I should have 
deserved to lose it. I shouldn’t have been worthy. 
Of course I shouldn’t ever have known. And I am 
not sure but a girl’s safeguard is a true and high 
ideal. I have not lived up to mine. I have some 
weak strands in my character. I couldn’t uphold and 
govern as some women do. I want someone strong 
for me. I want someone I can rely upon in all things, 
to the end.” 

“And you loved him!” 

“No — it was not that. Oh, Dell! if I had loved 
him as I did after the consciousness came to me the 
first night of his arrival, I could not have promised to 
consider any other man’s wishes.” 

“I liked him so much over there in London,” Dell 
said, “but I did not dream!” 

“You and I were not dreaming of lovers very much. 
We were just having a good time. And he was not 
thinking of marrying. He did not feel that it would 
be fair to ask a young girl to share a rough, pioneer 
sort of life. And we seemed so rich then, although 
he said, if I had been poor and used to hardships, he 
would not have hesitated. It is queer how you make 
an impression upon other people, as if you planted 
something in them that took root and grew. I sup- 
pose I unconsciously measured other men by him 


A REAL LOVER. 


Ill 


until the standard settled itself, but no one came up to 
it,” and she gave a soft, comprehensive smile, as if 
she was assured of the reason. 

Dell could not make the mystery clear to herself. 
To come so near to loss, with no comprehension of 
future blessedness ! 

‘T partly understood when I resolved to break the 
entanglement with Mr. Phillips. Dell, I do not think 
he loved me; and I have a feeling that he would have 
found some way of slipping out of the engagement 
later on. He has been flattered so much. He has 
found so many girls and their mothers striving to 
attract him. And when he came to one who didn’t 
want him or his money it roused a desire to triumph. 
People who have so much want new sensations. I do 
believe, if I had shown any real fondness, he would 
soon have tired of me. And he persuaded himself it 
was a really grand thing to want to marry a poor girl. 
It made him a hero in his own eyes. I did not have 
any real faith in him. And I gave in at last with a 
feeling that something would happen, and that I would 
not have to marry him. Afterward I was so horribly 
afraid the something wouldn’t happen that I was 
almost wild. That was why I told you, although I 
knew mamma meant me not to tell anyone. And 
Gif’s letter just crystallized the whole matter, and 
made the wrong stand out so sharply I couldn’t go 
on. Dell, dear, you and Aunt Aurelia have been 
very good to me.” 

Dell gave her a passionate hug. “I am so glad you 
did it by yourself,” she said. “That the best thing 
was not so near at hand that you could balance them, 
either.” 

“Oh, Dell! I should be forever ashamed of myself 


II2 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


if I could do such a thing. I shouldn’t feel fit to take 
any good man’s love. I never thought of Mr. 
Osborne in any hoping way. I just prayed God would 
give me strength to meet the consequences of what I 
had to do. I was not so afraid of the doing. I never 
wrote a letter with a more joyful heart. I just resolved 
to go forward.” 

“Alice, suppose he had not come?” Dell clasped 
her with a quiver. 

“I should have had my own self-respect all the same. 
Why, I would a hundred times rather never have 
married, but lived here and been Aunt Aurelia’s girl 
to my life’s end.” 

She was smiling through tears. 

“Would it be very hard, I wonder, to make up one’s 
mind to live single?” Dell asked, in a rather strained 
voice. “Of course if one had a romance like Miss 
Neale, or a family to engross one like Aunt 
Aurelia ” 

“Why, I do not think it would be hard. You 
would miss something out of life, the care and love 
that is for you alone, and the companionship — when it 
is a true marriage like Aunt Laura’s and Aunt Jue’s. 
But, Dell, single women are coming into fashion. Still 
one needs to be rich or have a genius. But even 
without either, I should not have been sorry, once, 
that I gave up Mr. Phillips. Only I should have had 
to spend winters with Ethel, and know all the time 
she and mamma were making efforts to marry me off. 
Poor mamma! Worldly success and pleasure are the 
only things worth striving for in her estimation. I 
wish she could come down here and be happy.” 

That was quite impossible, Lyndell felt. 

‘‘And Mr, Osborne has been loving you all this 


A REAL LOVER. 


113 

time,” she said presently, with a longing in her 
voice. 

“Well, not exactly,” Alice laughed, with a tender 
joyousness. “He admitted that, if he had been 
younger and richer, he would have asked me in Lon- 
don. But he thought, as matters stood, it wouldn’t be 
fair. I like his manliness in that,” she said proudly. 
“But he used to dream about me, and listen to the 
things you said in your letters. And when he heard 
about papa’s illness and the misfortunes he began to 
plan about me. You never told the worst until 
papa’s death. He felt it was no time then to come on 
and ask his question, especially as they had begun to 
consider this business project even then. And he 
kept thinking I was very young; as if, like everyone 
else, I had not grown two years older.” 

“It is a real romance. And I am so glad it has 
happened to you. But wasn’t it queer that there 
should have been that little blunder? Were you 
surprised?” 

“Oh, Dell! I was transfixed. His look asked me 
a question and mine answered it. But I knew I had 
to tell him this wretched episode of my weakness, and 
he said just as I felt about it: ‘Thank God, you didn’t 
know of my coming, and that you wrote before I 
came.’ But it will be my shame that I ever listened 
at all.” 

It was a wonderful interposition. Dell thrilled to 
it again as she glanced into Alice’s happy face. 

“And there was nothing really said until Sunday 
evening. I dreaded my part in the confession. But 
we understood each other. This morning he had a 
talk with Aunt Aurelia, and she accepted him cor- 
dially. She has been so sweet to me to-day. He is 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


114 

not to see mamma until she comes down, and that will 
be on Friday. Aunt Aurelia is to set the matter 
straight for me.” 

‘‘Girls, girls ” — and Aunt Jue looked in, a trailing 
white ghost — ‘‘do you realize how late it is! You 
will have no beauty sleep, and there are days and 
days to come in which you can talk your fill.” 

They laughed and came and kissed her, then said a 
tender good-night to each other. 

But Dell took to bed with her the mystery and 
rapture of that love-look she had intercepted. Would 
ever any eyes look into hers like that? Was it wrong 
to wish for one supreme love to glorify life, for one 
draught of perfect happiness? Milly, Violet, and 
now Alice. 

But was not idealizing or desiring what was an- 
other’s covetous and wrong? 


CHAPTER VIII. 


PAIN AND PLEASANTNESS. 

T he romance had not faded with the morning. It 
really touched Lyndell to see how delicate and 
tender Aunt Aurelia was with Alice. And Tessy, 
who had half guessed and was wholly delighted, filled 
the trio of happy girls. 

For love is always new. It carries that stamp of 
the divine about with it. And youth lends of its 
own delicious sweetness. There may be wiser pur- 
poses and experiences later on, tliere may be an after- 
bloom of love even, but there is only one youth, one 
thrill of unalloyed newness. 

They all went to the Beaumanoirs’ on Wednesday, 
and Mr. Osborne came down and drove over home 
with them. He was Alice’s lover then. They were 
all together, and he was delightfully social and full of 
bits of news and talk. But by common consent they 
gave him the corner of the porch, and Tessy and Dell 
walked out under the trees, almost in love with the 
lover himself. 

Lady Ashton had known his intention. There was 
the chance of Alice’s affections being elsewhere engaged 
but it seemed as if Dell must have spoken of it in her 
chatty epistles. She was sure now to have one sweet 
girl, who would be like a daughter. Bevis Osborne 
had grown into a sort of brotherhood with the colonel 
and herself. 

”5 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


ii6 

Julius drove Aunt Aurelia over to Beaumanoir on 
Friday afternoon. 

“It is so lovely and generous of you to take the 
brunt of this,” Alice had said, with her arms around 
the neck of the elder woman, and her firm young 
cheek pressed against the wrinkled one. 

“Lovely and generous.” The words were sweet to 
hear. It was good to have the happiness of a young 
soul in her hands. 

They had not much time to speculate upon the 
result, for there was an influx of young company, and 
some entertaining games of croquet, some music and 
singing. The load had just driven away when Aunt 
Aurelia arrived. 

“It is all settled,” she said to Alice, "and there will 
not be any trouble. Mr. Osborne and Leonard are 
coming down to-morrow, and he will plead his own 
cause. You can go to bed content.” 

“Oh, thank you a thousand times!” How light of 
heart she had grown. Aunt Aurelia looked into the 
shining eyes. Was there any medicine like happiness? 

But there had been a stormy time. Aunt Aurelia 
had gone armed with Gifford’s letter, which his 
mother had scouted indignantly. 

“Mr. Phillips drinks a little at suppers — all young 
men do. A rich young fellow like that has many 
enemies and detractors, though they are glad enough 
to accept his generosity. Do you suppose Mr. Long- 
worth would have asked him to his house if he had 
been vicious and disreputable?” 

“Gifford did not say disreputable. And Alice was 
firmly convinced that her engagement would only lead 
to unhappiness,” Aunt Aurelia replied, with rather 
severe dignity. 


PA/J\r AND PLEASAN'DiVESS. 1 17 

“I told her to keep away from Sherburne House. 
Dell’s head is full of romantic nonsense, and she 
always does infect Alice with it. I did not want them 
together. If Lyndell Sherburne doesn’t make some 
sort of scandal before you get her safely married I 
shall miss my guess.” 

“Edith, she came to me for advice, and I gave it. 
Lyndell had no voice in the matter. And it is my 
purpose to take Alice under my^especial charge, as she 
will shortly be married, and to provide her wedding 
outfit. She has chosen for herself, and if you can 
listen reasonably ” 

“This is the reason, then— the deceitful, underhand 
girl! With whom has she been carrying on a clandes- 
tine intimacy? I will never, never consent. This is 
the reward of my care, of Ethel’s generosity, the 
pains to put her in the best of society and give her 
exceptional advantages! The ungrateful, wretched 
girl!” Mrs. Lepage stamped her foot in anger. 

Miss Sherburne looked steadily at her with unwonted 
sternness: 

“I have never been in the habit of condoning im- 
proper or disrespectful conduct. There has been 
nothing clandestine. A man with the sincerest re- 
gard for her has come from a distance to win her, 
and I for one feel thankful that she was free to accept. 
When you are in a proper mood to listen like a reason- 
able mother who has her daughter’s welfare truly at 
heart, Mr. Beaumanoir will tell you the rest.” 

Then Aunt Aurelia rose stiffly and walked out of 
the room. 

But surprise and curiosity won the day. A feeling 
also, that, treat the matter loftily as she might, she had 
received many favors at Sherburne House. But for 


li8 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

its hospitality she must have spent the small remaining 
sum out of the wreck of their fortunes. Gifford had 
fled to it as a place of refuge. And somehow she 
could not have left Mr. Lepage so much to himself in 
any other place without invidious comments. Aunt 
Aurelia was very generous, but then, none of the 
others needed it. She had been rude, disrespectful. 
And who could have so suddenly attracted Alice’s 
attention? Whom had she seen that she could re- 
solve to accept on so short a notice. There was 
Floyd Mason, but certainly that would be a poor 
marriage speculation for a fortuneless girl. Spencer 
Kirby — that would not be so bad. Spencer would 
take his uncle’s business in the course of time, and 
Mr. Whittingham was in comfortable circumstances, 
really well off. Alice would go home to live, of 
course. She recalled the fact that Mrs. Kirby always 
had admired Alice. They were well connected, irre- 
proachable people. She would be a welcome visitor. 
Altogether, then, it was not so bad, but she did feel 
bitterly disappointed. 

If Alice had evinced more enthusiasm about Mr. 
Phillips, his ardent regard could easily have been 
fanned to a marriage. Truth to tell, she was afraid 
she had let the golden moment slip, and that by 
autumn his passion would have cooled. But to have 
two daughters splendidly married, when she had not 
really been a pushing, maneuvering mother! 

Still she could content herself with Mr. Kirby. 
Alice would fade rather easily ; she began to show 
signs of it, even at one-and-twenty. And to be 
relieved of all further anxiety was something. 

When Aunt Aurelia went to the dressing room to 
put on her wraps, Mrs. Lepage followed her. 


PAIN AND PLEASANTNESS. 119 

“My dear aunt,” she began, in a mollifying tone, 
“I was rude and ungracious to you half an hour ago. 
But I was so surprised that Alice should take such an 
important step as giving up her engagement without 
consulting me, when she had agreed to it only so short 
a time before. And I am sure she has never even 
hinted or suggested any other regard. A mother is 
wounded to the quick to be shut out of her daughters’ 
confidence, especially when she has tried to give them 
happy, care-free lives.” 

“A girl cannot always tell until a man speaks,” 
returned Miss Sherburne, with some asperity. 

“I suppose it is Spencer Kirby. Of course I could 
not really object, but it cannot be considered a bril- 
liant marriage.” 

“It is not Mr. Kirby.” For a moment Miss Sher- 
burne almost wished it had been. “You heard that 
Lady Ashton had come?” 

“Laura spoke of it. You know I have been stay- 
ing at Georgetown in the most secluded fashion. One 
evening Gifford called, and I had gone over to the con- 
vent with some friends. And I heard Mr. Osborne 
came with her. Mr. Beaiimanoir seems to think they 
are on the highroad to fortune. So poor Warren 
believed, and it was the first step to misfortune. I 
have not much confidence in these Western schemes,” 
and the lady sighed. 

“It is Mr. Osborne,” said Miss Sherburne stiffly. 
“He has been waiting until he had something worthy 
to offer, I believe, but now he has summoned up 
courage to offer what he has to a poor girl who took 
his fancy long ago. Alice was as much surprised as 
anyone. But if her engagement had held her, I think 
she would have had sufficient principle not to have 


120 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


allowed it to come to a declaration. There has been 
nothing underhand. He spoke to me at once in the 
most gentlemanly manner, and wished to see you. If 
anyone is to blame, it is I, since I decided." 

Mrs. Lepage began to cry a little. She could not 
tell whether she were disappointed or pleased. 

"It seems quite dreadful when one has been edu- 
cated and accomplished as Alice has, and understands 
French and music so well, to waste it all on a Western 
ranch among cowboys and laborers. I do wonder 
that she could. And a person so well connected as 
Lady Ashton made a great sacrifice in coming out, as 
she and the colonel did. Mr. Osborne was a rather 
superior man, as I remember, but it does not take 
long to degenerate among inferior associations. I 
never have had any fancy for Western life, nor for 
people with newly acquired riches. I am afraid Alice 
is laying up a disappointment for herself," and Mrs. 
Lepage wiped away a few tears of vexation that all 
this had happened without her assistance. 

Miss Sherburne tied her bonnet-strings with un- 
necessary force, and drew her mantle about her with 
the dignity of a Roman among an ungrateful populace. 

"You will see Mr. Osborne to-morrow," she said 
haughtily. "Whatever objections you have can be 
made to him.” 

Miss Sherburne leaned back in the carriage, not 
abating much of her dignity, but wondering a little 
about the aims and purposes of life. Not many years 
ago she had taken great pride in Mrs. Lepage. In 
that time — how long ago it seemed, when Lyndell 
Sherburne’s fate seemed wavering in the balance — she 
had been guided almost entirely by her opinions. 
How cold and narrow and selfish they looked now! 


PAIN AND PLEASANTNESS. 


121 


How could she have found plausible excuses for stay- 
ing away from her dying husband? Aunt Aurelia had 
never recovered from the shock this had given her 
ideas of wifely devotion. 

Had she once been like that? Laura and her hus- 
band had looked at the side of right and justice, and 
if she could have listened then ! But she had repented 
and tried to make amends. She had taken up the 
larger view of the present life, and believed more in 
the joys to come; even the reward to him who entered 
in at the eleventh hour, to him who was faithful over 
a few things. And she was trying in the time left her 
to be faithful, to care for the things of the world to 
come, to sow seeds of kindliness and outgiving, not as 
she desired, always, but as others needed. 

Presently, from the depths of her heart she pitied 
this poor worldly woman who was trying to fill broken 
cisterns. And she was glad the young soul that had 
trembled so in the balance had swung over to the right 
side, had turned away from the gauds of mere world- 
liness. There was a sacred and serious side to life. 
There was a sacred and serious side to marriage. It 
was “not to be entered into lightly.” 

And all the next day watching Alice, blithe and 
light-hearted, with the rose of content coming and 
going in her cheek, she was touched by the great 
miracle of the happening. Was God keeping watch 
that it should not come too late? She was awed as well. 

At mid-afternoon the carriage-load drove over, with 
the two young men on horseback. They were all in 
the gayest of spirits, so it had been settled amicably. 
Indeed, it would have been a very exigent mother if 
she was not satisfied with so manly a suitor as Bevis 
Osborne. 


122 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

Alice received the congratulations blushingly. 
There was something a little grudging in her mother’s 
kiss, but the presence of Lady Ashton had a soothing 
effect on Mrs. Lepage. If Osborne had been a younger 
brother or a nephew — if the charm of rank could have 
extended to him ! 

“My dear,” said Milly, “we are all delighted with 
the surprise and the romance, and the loyalty of the 
man. We like him so much. We shall be sorry 
to have you go away, but it doesn’t seem so far as 
Europe. And you are not giving up your country. 
Why, we shall have stirring times in the autumn ! But 
I must not anticipate a lover’s confidence. Each girl 
must hear and answer for herself.’’ 

Fanny Beaumanoir was a young lady now, rather 
consequential, but she had failed of her childish 
aspirations, expectations, perhaps. She had counted 
on being tall; the Beaumanoirs and Sherburnes were, 
and she was merely medium size, a trifle too large to 
he pelUe, and not large enough to reach the mark of 
elegance Milly and Violet had attained. Her plump- 
ness was very well now, but it was too suggestive of 
stoutness by and by. Then, in spite of all precautions, 
her hair had turned brown, and was near the color of 
Dell’s, while Violet’s still held its rare gold. And 
Fanny had been so sure Dell’s hair would settle to red. 

Lyndell was certainly a fine-looking young woman, 
and would probably be handsomer at middle life. 
But the charm that illumined her face was her joyous, 
generous soul, her delight in the happiness of others. 

The young people rambled about. Fanny took 
possession of Dell. There was so much to tell. 
Something about Fanny suggested her old-time school- 
mate Frasie Walden, and quite amused her. Mr. 


PA IN’ AND PLEASANTNESS. 


123 


Osborne carried off Alice to the most secluded dell, 
so Tessy and Leonard drifted together naturally. 
They were always having dainty little skirmishes; but 
Tessy’ s wit was of the amusing order, and held a sort 
of spice that kept him from dropping into sentimen- 
talities. How charming and piquante she was; how 
curiously elusive ! 

Millicent was among the elders, who were discuss- 
ing plans. Mr. Osborne had laid his before his pro- 
spective mother-in-law, who had demurred, of course; 
but he was the sort of man to carry the day when he 
was very much in earnest. He had succeeded in 
some of his plans, and now it was necessary for him to 
return, to take them up at the first end. This was an 
extensive irrigation scheme to take the place of a 
smaller one they had engineered successfully them- 
selves, that would bring hundreds of acres of fine land 
under cultivation. For the next three months he 
would be engrossed with work and workmen, when 
another holiday might be possible. He would come 
East again, and desired then to be married. The 
engagement would be brief, to be sure, and the year 
of mourning for Mr. Lepage would not have ended, 
but a quiet marriage could not disturb anything. 

Lady Ashton was to remain for the present. Mr. 
Osborne declared laughingly to her that he left his 
case in her hands. 

“Violet’s wedding will be in September,’’ said Mrs. 
Beaumanoir, “and they will go abroad again to trav- 
erse some new fields, Egypt and Russia.’’ 

Then she gave a little sigh. Yet it was of God’s 
ordering that there should be new centers of house- 
hold life and love. One little circle could not con- 
tain all. 


124 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“There is no knowing the exact time of Ethel’s 
return,” Mrs. Lepage remarked, in a protesting 
manner. “And I do not think Alice would like to 
marry with her sister absent. I am sure Ethel would 
feel hurt.” 

“If it were different, and we could have a double 
marriage!” said the other mother. 

“But you will be very grand. It would be so out 
of taste for Alice. And that is why I want Ethel at 
home. She is so up in society matters.” 

“Alice will go from Sherburne House,” Aunt 
Aurelia said quickly, almost interrupting her niece. 
“Since I seem to have had a hand in the affair I mean 
to carry it through. Alice is to be my charge until 
that time, be it sooner or later.” 

“I am sure you are very good, since the poor child 
has no father, and no brothers in a position to care 
for her. I never could have dreamed two short years 
would work such a change.” 

“Your loss will be my gain,” exclaimed Lady Ash- 
ton, with a smile. 

“My dear friend, if it was not for you I never could 
consent to my child going out to that wild life,” said 
the mother emphatically. “Alice has not the courage 
and resolution of Ethel.” 

“You would hardly call it a wild life if you saw it,” 
began Lady Ashton, rather annoyed “Though,” 
with a half laugh that restored her good nature, “I 
know what a crude opinion I had of it myself. No 
one can form a correct idea of it until they have seen 
it. We can go into several beautiful towns that are 
centers of improvement quite as complete as anything 
at the East. And the famous health resorts call 
people from all parts of the world. Even we have 


FAIAT AND PLEASANTNESS. 


125 


had a great many delightful visitors; and with a young 
person to help me entertain, we should take in many 
more. Bevis has his piano and flute, and we often 
play duets. We keep in touch with the best intelli- 
gence in our magazines and papers. And to my own 
surprise I have resumed riding again — that is one of 
our great pleasures. Just where we are, we do lack 
fashionable society, but if I had a companion to enjoy 
it no doubt we should take a few weeks now and then 
at the larger centers.” 

“It will be just the life for Alice,” declared Milli- 
cent. “She doesn’t care so much for the dissipations 
of society. If I should get courage enough for another 
journey, I think it would be in my own land.” 

“And I have Dell’s promise. How I should like 
to have a merry company of girls! I remember how 
charming they were abroad.” 

“I can’t Jpare so many at once,” said Aunt 
Aurelia hastily. 

‘‘And we shall be quite lonesome. We have had 
Alice so much the last year. But we cannot hope to 
keep them always,” and Mrs. Beaumanoir sent up an 
unworded prayer as she glanced at Millicent’s sweet 
face. They had consented to her marriage and the 
separation it entailed with unspoken regret. Was 
there a lesson in it? 

Mrs. Lepage felt herself ruled out, as it were. She 
had been the leading spirit so long that she rebelled 
inwardly. Of course, as she was poor she was not cf 
much account. She could have no voice in the des- 
tiny of her own child. Her own sisters leagued 
against her, and it was plain that Aunt Aurelia meant 
to have matters under her own supervision. 

She did not mind being relieved of trouble, but she 


126 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


did wish to be consulted as if she still had some 
power. She wanted it not only understood, but 
acknowledged, that Alice could have done much better. 

It really was quite a grand tea party, and the 
young people had a good time. Alice glanced fur- 
tively now and then at her mother, who was lavishing 
caresses on Florence. 

“She is so lovely,” the girl thought. “She will be 
such a comfort to mamma!” For she understood in 
Aunt Jue’s fond clasp, Milly’s tender smile, and Aunt 
Aurelia’s glance that she had not sinned in allowing 
herself to be won by her lover’s impassioned pleading. 

“Three months will be long enough to write 
letters,” Bevis Osborne had said, with an impetuous- 
ness that startled Alice. “After waiting two years in 
half-doubt, I do not even want to wait in certainty. I 
could not bear to think that a continent divided us; 
that a hundred things might happen! It would be 
different if I could see you every day or two. Your 
Miss Sherburne is a splendid advocate. She under- 
stood at once. With her on my side no one will be 
able to talk you out of it.” 

She did not want to be talked out of it. Ah, how 
could she have profaned even the thought of marriage 
with another! But she had not thought, she had 
shrunk from the subject with an awful inward dis- 
taste. And it was so much the more wicked to half 
promise, to even assent. 

“You tender little soul, do not worry over that,” 
her lover had said between kisses. “I can understand 
it all. Women have an immense capacity for self- 
sacrifice. And, as matters stood, you were willing to 
throw yourself into the breach and save your mother 
from care and perplexity. If I had known I should 


PAIlSr AND PLEASANTNESS. 


127 


have dropped everything and come to you then, and 
mortally offended my dear friend the colonel, and Mr. 
John Ashton, who is a man with far-sight and shrewd- 
ness. We were in the thick of the plans, also. Yes, 
I am glad, too, that it has come about just in this 
manner. I shall know that you are never longing for 
this young man’s money, since you gave him up of your 
own accord,” and he laughed with a tender approval. 

‘‘I hope you won’t ever feel disappointed in me,” 
Alice said gravely. “I haven’t much self-depend- 
ence. I am strong only with some people. Dell 
inspires me. Dell gave me my first serious views of 
life, and she is so bright and full of amusement; so 
ready to comfort anyone in trouble. But I ought to 
feel more certain of myself ” 

‘‘So long as you feel certain that you love me, and 
that you are g/aJ to leave all for my sake, glad to take 
the joy with all the pain of parting, for my future 
happiness,” smiling tenderly upon her. 

“I should be glad to do anything for your sake; 
any right thing,” after a little pause. 

‘‘Heaven keep me from ever asking anything not 
quite right,” he answered seriously. 

‘‘It seems almost wicked to be so content,” she said 
to Dell that night. ‘‘And I have been so miserable 
all because I didn’t trust God and go forward in the 
way I felt was right. Dell, do you suppose God was 
keeping watch and knew of the great happiness com- 
ing? It seems so mysterious,” in an awed tone. 

‘‘Could anything happen without his knowing it? 
And why shouldn’t he send happiness?” 

Both girls kissed silently in a maze of wonderment. 
And Dell thought of the hard things, the evil things, 
the trials and losses. It was so easy to believe the 


128 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


joys were sent when one was in the midst of them. 
But in the depths of sorrow, in the straits of indecision 
when no finger pointed out the way! Yes, the path 
was surely there. She had come out of it herself, 
even if over thorns. 

On Tuesday Gifford joined them unexpectedly. 
For a fortnight or so his services in Washington would 
not be needed. Leonard was to remain all the week, 
and Paul Amory came down. Alice’s engagement 
found the utmost favor. They all liked Mr. Osborne 
immensely. The week was crowded full of rides and 
drives, with an excursion to the Natural Bridge and 
down to Chesapeake Bay. Lady Ashton matronized 
one party. Aunt Jue and Mrs. Beaumanoir the other. 

There were times when Dell asked herself what this 
renewed intimacy with Leonard meant. It had an 
unwonted, fascinating flavor. He seemed to give her 
the same brotherliness that he did Millicent, which 
was different from his gay, half-imperious manner with 
Violet. But when she was resting securely in this, 
there would be an imperceptible change, an impression 
that he was on his good behavior with her, and that it 
was just a little different from anything that had gone 
before. 

He was gracious and sonlike to his parents in quite 
a new manner, with a touch of deference and true 
courtesy that improved him very much. He had been 
admired and petted and spoiled on every hand. 
Everything had conspired to foster self-indulgence. 
But it did seem as if self was not the first considera- 
tion now. Perhaps it was the manliness growing out 
of and above boyhood’s carelessness. 

Aunt Julia remarked it. “Do you know,’’ she said 
to Miss Sherburne, “that Leonard is growing wonder- 


FAm AND PLEASANTNESS. 


129 


fully like his father? Perhaps we do look too soon for 
the shaping and ripening of these young natures. 
Certainly his conduct through his difficulties of last 
autumn has been admirable. I am thankful now that 
we allowed Dell to settle the matter in her own way.” 

“But have you no fear of the future?” asked Aunt 
Aurelia hesitatingly. “I cannot rest until that girl’s 
fate is decided. And Dell has some such romantic 
notions ” 

“Miss Garcia will decide her destiny herself, I 
think. She certainly shows wisdom and spirit.” 

“But if this should all be a training for a decisive 
step in the end ! If she should have the power to lure 
Leonard back? I know Dell would think it his duty.” 

“lam not so sure of that. Dell has some very high 
and fine notions about love, and Dr. Carew’s opinion 
had a good deal of weight. No, I think we may 
safely consider that ended.” 

Aunt Aurelia drew a breath of relief. 

“A son’s marriage is of quite as much importance 
as a daughter’s,” she said, after a pause. “Violet’s is 
very satisfactory, and I do hope Leonard’s may be.” 

“A wish long deferred is sometimes granted unex- 
pectedly. Leonard is wise in not urging any claim at 
present.” 

Dell was glad and yet afraid. Glad to have the 
cousinly kindness with no vague suggestions of any- 
thing nearer. Yet she experienced a startling fear 
now and then, because she was coming to admire him 
for his own real worth. He had taken such an 
interest in Gifford. 

“This is only a temporary thing,” he said. “Mr. 
Berford’s secretary comes back in September. There 
are governmeiit clerkships, but one so soon gets in a 


130 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


rut. I could take him into our office, but he seems 
disinclined to make the law his profession, though his 
father had hoped that for him. Alice’s marriage will 
change the aspect of some things. I am most thank- 
ful she broke with young Phillips. What Aunt Edith 

could have been thinking of ” 

“What Gifford said was quite true?” inquired Dell 
in the pause. • 

‘‘Yes, it was true. I wonder that mothers can give 
their daughters to such young men. When a man is 
older and has settled down, there is a greater certainty 
and promise of permanence. But these ill-considered 
marriages pave the way for divorces. Not that I 
think it would have come to a marriage. Something 
would have happened next winter to break it off. And 
it seems as if Bevis Osborne was just the man for 
Alice. How fortunate she took the decisive step when 
she did! Still,” and Leonard laughed a little, “Aunt 
Edith will never cease to regret Mr. Phillips until Mr. 
Osborne becomes a millionaire. And he may be. 
There seems so much chance in those ventures.” 
“Alice doesn’t care for riches especially.” 

“No; Alice is quite an old-time girl, like yourTessy 
Murray. I think the chances for men and women to 
live happy, reasonable lives have not been quite 
extinguished while such girls are growing up right in 
the whirl of new ideas and unrest and fashion. Miss 
Murray is quite as much at ease and as unaffected as 
if she had been brought up in the very heart of 
luxury. But I must admit that Mr. Murray is every 
inch a gentleman.” 

Dell’s cheek glowed with pride. 

“And she has quite wound her way around Aunt 
Aurelia’s heart, Dell, what is it? I can’t make out 


PA/JV AND PLEASANTNESS. 131 

the subtle charm. She is so true, so sincere, and 
stands so on her own ground. You really have to 
come over and get her, but the fragrance and the sun- 
shine seem to flash clear back to you, and I suppose 
Aunt Aurelia, like a good many others, likes the 
warmth of the sunshine and the old-fashioned scent of 
violets.” 

“I am glad to have you all like her so well,” 
Dell said, with her clear honesty and a thrill at her 
heart. 

She admired this breadth in Leonard. She liked to 
hear him praise Mr. Murray. And she gave thanks 
in the depths of her soul that there was no straining 
after effect in the family. People who discerned their 
worthiness came to them. They did not flaunt their 
riches in the world’s face, for they had some of the 
best things the world could give. 

But Dell understood now that with less refinement, 
and with the claim of money merely, they might have 
been objectionable. She had seen some people who 
had ‘‘come up from the masses,” and brought their 
vulgarity with them. But the Murrays were not 
vulgar in the beginning. 

She was glad to show Leonard her gratification at 
this, and her sincere appreciation of his interest in 
Gifford, as if Gifford was not his own cousin, and 
they were not all in some degree answerable for his 
future, in aid as well as counsel. 

But Gifford had been drawn to her by her buoyant 
nature in the same manner that Alice had come to 
lean upon her. He liked her uplifting strength, the 
way in which she put courage into one, that she made 
efforts possible. Of course he had been very much 
to blame, and his mother, with all her other disap- 


132 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


pointments, censured him severely. He felt heljrless 
too, in this time of trial. 

“But I hope I shall live to make amends for it all,” 
he said to Dell. “I have set this purpose steadily 
before myself. Only the certainty comes to you that 
you never can wholly redeem anything; at least, that 
you can never blot it out.” 

“Still, if God has promised not to remember your 
old sins against you, I do not see why people should 
not be merciful and try to overlook them when you 
know one is in earnest.” 

“But it is the remembering yourself that brings the 
sting. I think of the money and the time and the 
advantages I have wasted. And to have committed a 
crime in intent! Oh, Dell! I don’t know how you 
had the courage to stretch out your hand and save 
me! Poor father! I am glad he never knew. And 
out of the wreck I have his love, and the conscious- 
ness that I was so much to him during those last 
months.” 

“Oh, Gifford!” Dell cried, her face all aflush with 
a sacred pity for him; “do not brood over that. 
Uncle Beaumanoir proved it was only a plot to get 
the upper hand of you. And we are never to refer to 
it, you know.” 

“You have all been very good. And Aunt Aurelia 
is generosity itself in this strait. These are the 
things that can never be repaid.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF YOUTH. 

“OOMETHING must be done speedily,” said Aunt 
O Julia, in her earnest fashion that could hardly be 
called energetic, it had so much smoothness and soft- 
ness in it. ‘‘You girls cannot sit and moon away the 
whole summer, and bewail your lovers.” 

‘‘We are not bewailing. We are comparing virtues 
and graces,” said Violet Beaumanoir saucily. ‘‘But 
what must be done?” 

‘‘Well, shopping, for instance; and wedding clothes. 
Unless you want to emulate Enid in her ragged 
gown. Nineteenth-century husbands are different.” 

‘‘I am to be spared most of the trouble,” declared 
Violet. ‘‘It was long ago voted a useless thing to 
carry coals to Newcastle. And Paul insists that we 
are to go in light marching order. When we have 
worn out one suit we are to buy another. And there 
is no present housekeeping to think about. We shall 
come home laden, no doubt, after having ‘ransacked 
the ages.’ ” 

How could she talk in that familiar way about Paul 
Aniory? Alice wondered. Even a little thought of 
Mr. Osborne brought the color to her cheek. 

‘‘And if Alice is to live in a wilderness,” suggested 
Dell, with a glint of humor, "'Enid had to ‘ask not, 
but obey.’ ” 

‘‘Aunt Aurelia means that the wilderness shall 


133 


134 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

blossom as the rose. A summer excursion to New 
York may not be exactly en regie ^ but I doubt if we can 
afford much more. Lady Ashton is to go to Canada to 
visit some cousins, and will escort us to New York.” 

“And Tessy is proof against further blandish- 
ments,” resumed Dell regretfully. 

“I have stayed such a long, long while. Mamma 
wants to go away with the children.” 

She pressed Dell’s hand lovingly. 

“We shall want to bring you back.” 

“If I could be two people,” said Tessy, with a 
delicious, lingering cadence in her voice. 

“Oh, Tess! what mites they would be!” laughed 
Lyndell. 

“I would like her to remain,” said Aunt Julia. 
“What Aunt Aurelia will do without ofte girl, when she 
has been used to so many, I hardly know. Violet, 
you and Fanny must take turns staying over here.” 

“Milly has to go up to New York on some myste- 
rious business,” said Violet. “The best thing is for 
Aunt Aurelia to come over and spend a week with us. 
I do wonder” — she put her head down until her 
cheek almost touched Dell’s in a girl’s confidential 
fashion — ‘ ‘what Milly and Bertram find to write about 
so continually. And she has grown so strangely 
secretive. I think papa knows.” 

Dell knew too. She was thankful for the dusk, that 
hid the scarlet in her face as it came up with a protest 
from her soul. Oh, why in this world should people 
come face to face with possibilities ; should see a thing 
that might be, and yet was as much out of one’s reach 
and acceptance as if in some other world ! It was a 
thing to struggle against, not dream over in a longing 
fashion. Then she raised her head resolutely. 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF YOUTH. 


135 


As they were straggling in at bedtime Tessy 
lingered behind and caught Aunt Julia’s hand in an 
entreating clasp. The touch of her soft fingers, the 
turn of her head, the slow raising of her eyes meant 
so much. The sincerity impressed one. She never 
indulged in effects. 

“You said — did you mean you would like me to 
stay with Miss Aurelia while you were all gone?” 

“Oh, my dear — how lovely in you to take it that 
way! No, I didn’t quite mean it. We couldn’t be 
so selfish. But we have enjoyed your being here so 
much.’’ 

“And I have enjoyed it. I am glad to give anyone 
pleasure. There are some things money can do, you 
know, and there are others that all the wealth of the 
world could not buy or win — 'Miss Aurelia’s kindness 
and preference.’’ 

Aunt Julia stooped and kissed her on the threshold. 
Was she so sure? It was the sweet single-hearted- 
ness of youth. For there was no doubt but her 
father’s standing and wealth and the respect paid him 
had been factors in Tessy Murray’s behalf. Aunt 
Aurelia would not have yielded merely to that. Some- 
thing in the fresh, generous nature, the outspoken 
delight and quaint bits of humor that never had any 
sting, had won the elder woman. She had a certain 
pride in Lyndell, and had come to appreciate her, to 
love her for her father’s sake. But in regard to Tessy, 
it was love for no one’s sake but her own. 

“And we must not exact too much. You must 
have a bright time in New York with the girls. Shop- 
ping always has an interest for young people, and 
especially wedding clothes. But if they could spare 
you in the autumn, after Alice goes. It will be lonely 


136 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


for Dell, as well as for Aunt Aurelia. Will you bear 
that in mind? We must not forget that we do not 
quite own you.” 

The sweet face was smiling as they emerged in the 
lamplight. She would have been glad to have the 
proffer accepted, and feel that she had been of some 
service to part pay for the delightful time. But there 
was no hurt feeling, no self-love to be wounded, no 
desire to be first. 

Mrs. Stanwood repeated the proffer to Aunt Aurelia, 
who gave a half sigh of regret. 

“No, of course,” she said, almost stiffly; she was 
so deeply moved that she had to brace herself with 
sturdy denial. “You all try to spoil me with so much 
waiting on. And I shouldn’t be alone — with this 
troop of servants. Besides, I’ve promised a day at 
the Masons’ and at Dr. Carew’s. I won’t put them 
off until mid-winter.” 

Even the servants were sorry to have Miss Tessy 
go. Her rare art of infusing pleasantness into daily 
living told everywhere, lihe sunshine. And the offset, 
the grasping, capricious March wind, that sent leaves 
and dust and broken twigs about, was Mrs. Lepage. 

“There is no use of my going,” she said sharply. 
“I seem to have no voice in anything concerning my 
daughter. She is to be married out of hand on an 
indecently short engagement, considering that her 
father will have been dead barely six months.” 

“It will be as long as Ethel’s. There seemed an 
imperative reason for that marriage.” 

“But everything is so different. I don’t see how 
Alice can endure the thought of going away from 
everybody. But no one considers me.” 

“Violet goes for two years, perhaps. And Milly 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF YOUTH. 


137 


took a longer journey than this. Since Aunt Aurelia 
assented, and she really was much pleased with Mr. 
Osborne, and as Alice will have almost a mother in 
Lady Ashton, we need not fear for her. Aunt Aurelia 
proposed first that she should wait a year, but it 
seemed hard to give them such a long probation when 
they were so far from each other. And since it is so, 
we may as well contribute to Alice’s happiness as 
keep her nervous and troubled, and questioning her 
right to be happy. You will have only one anxiety 
then, Plorence’s education.” 

“As if there was not Gifford to think of, who may 
go wrong again without a moment’s warning. Julia, 
you really have no sympathy for me. And I am sure 
I have always considered my family ” 

“There, dear! do not cry over it. Go up to New 
York with us, though the wedding gear will not be 
very ornate. Aunt Aurelia wants her to have a nice 
outfit in the substantial, and there are some things 
that will always come in handy. The girls will enjoy 
it.’’ 

Mrs. Lepage had meant to go for the diversion. 
She was considering a Newport invitation as well. 
She need not mingle in the gayeties, but she liked to 
look on. Sherburne House and Beaumanoir were 
both stupid, with not much besides neighborly hospi- 
talities. 

There was another reason why she held aloof. She 
was not so blind but that she could see her widowhood 
gave her the opportunity to take Mrs. Stanwood’s 
place in the household, and allow her sister the liberty 
of the winter, at least. Mrs. Beaumanoir had half sug- 
gested it as the proper thing. 

She couldn't get along with Dell, she knew, and as 


138 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

for staying alone — that really would kill her! She 
had none of the resources of home life; there must be 
excitement and society all the time. And though she 
complained, she felt in her soul that Alice’s brief 
engagement was a really excellent thing for her. 

It was one of the summer weeks when the heat 
seemed to have gathered up and spent itself before- 
hand. There were two or three half cloudy days, 
and the south wind kept running up the west, some- 
times taking a turn quite to the north. There was 
plenty of room in the city. The hotel was quite 
inspirited with so large a party, though the Murrays 
would fain have had them accept their hospitality. 
Con had taken a tour to Russia, and would not be at 
home all summer. James had grown into a fine- 
spirited fellow; quite a young man, indeed. 

It was late at night when they reached New York, 
and they were tired enough to go to bed. But quite 
soon the next morning, before they had matured their 
day’s plans, Dr. Carew came in. 

He was looking very well for all the hard work and 
hot weather; more than physically well. There was a 
dignity about him, an intellectual outgrowth, as if he 
had taken hold of the great things of life; as if his place 
was and would always be among them. Lyndell could 
not have put it into concise thought, but she felt it, as 
if a great distance had grown up between them in a few 
months. 

Millicent crossed the room to meet him and held 
out her hand with a smile. “I don’t know how to 
thank you,” she said, almost under her breath; but 
the words were like a sound wafted across a lake, and 
surged up to Doll’s silent shore. She seemed even to 
herself to shrink away, but in another instant he was 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF YOUTH. 


139 


greeting everybody in his rich, inspiriting voice, giv- 
ing Alice a delicate recognition that brought the warm 
color to her cheek, and smiling at Dell. For a 
moment or two they all talked together. Even Mrs. 
Lepage thawed out. 

“And now,” Carew said, when a little calm had 
succeeded the pleasurable tumult, “what are your 
plans? Mine will brook no delay. I must beg for 
Millicent from twelve until two;” he never gave her 
her married name in the family circle. “I want her 
to meet a friend of mine at luncheon, who is to sail 
to-morrow for Europe.” 

“We have no special plans. If we must spare her, 
we must,” answered Mrs. Stanwood laughingly. 

“I wanted to come before they were unalterable. 
Meanwhile ’ ’ 

There was another interruption in the form of Mr. 
Murray, who clasped his daughter to his heart after 
he greeted the others, and then had a warm, fatherly 
kiss for Lyndell, who seemed to herself in a maze, as 
if the real, living spirit had gone out of her and left 
only the body. 

“It is such a magnificent morning, and I have 
come down in the family carriage,” smiling with a 
fine geniality on the group. “I propose that you all 
take a drive. The park is well worth seeing. Mrs. 
Murray went down to Long Island yesterday to make 
a reconnoissance of our new home, and will not return 
until to-night, leaving part of the family behind. 
Doctor, have you time to drive with the ladies?” 
turning to Carew. 

“To my great regret I have not. How long a drive 
do you propose?” glancing at Millicent. 

“I will not go,” rejoined she. “It must be busi- 


140 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


ness before pleasure this time. But I am sorry it 
happens, and I know the rest will enjoy it.” 

“But you will go, papa?” inquired Tessy. 

“Since Providence designs that I shall not depute 
the honor to a young man. Your loss is my gain.” 

Carew laughed and nodded. 

“Will you get ready at once?” said Mr. Murray. 

“Milly and I will finish a little talk,” Carew began, 
in a low tone to Aunt Julia. “And I will bring her 
back safely when the feast is ended.” 

Mrs. Lepage longed to offer her services as a chap- 
eron, but there was no need, and probably they would 
have been declined. They all went to make themselves 
ready. Even if there was “no one” in the city, the 
drive would be more entertaining than staying at home. 

They had a carriageful. It was indeed a beauti- 
ful morning with a soft, summery air; and as they 
turned into the winding drives, passing beds of richest 
bloom and spaces of velvet turf, broken here and 
there by clumps of shrubbery or a single effective 
tree, and the array the hand of art had brought to 
mingle with nature, Tessy asked questions about the 
new home on Great South Bay, where there would be 
boating of all kinds. A house and garden to them- 
selves, not very far from the hotel, and in the vicinity 
of some neighbors ; a delightful place, indeed ! 

“If you would come!” Tessy squeezed Dell’s 
hand. “Oh,” with a little cry, “what makes your 
hand so cold?” 

“Is it cold?” Her cheek was hot enough, then. 

“You show your yesterday’s journey very plainly, 
Lyndell,” remarked Aunt Lepage, with her gift of 
saying anything that might annoy. “Young people 
like you should have more stamina.” 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF YOUTH. 141 

“Do I?” Dell laughed shortly, and began to talk 
in an eager fashion that inspired the others, and drew 
attention away from herself. She did not want to 
think, and yet back of every effort the thought would 
remain, the certainty now. Aunt Lepage had put it 
into woids to Aunt Julia as they were going upstairs. 
Very pointedly indeed she had said: 

“It doesn’t take much penetration to see through 
that! I hope Millicent won’t be in a hurry, though’’ — 
adding with a sharp little intonation: “Haste may be 
contagious.’’ 

Dell was right behind. Aunt Julia made no reply. 

She had guessed it, but it seemed her secret, not 
any certain knowledge. Now a barrier had been set 
up. There could rightly, honorably, be no trespass- 
ing. Had she been dreaming that Alice’s surprise 
might be something that would go farther round the 
world? The days had come to have a new pleasant- 
ness and ease, rudely swept away now with the 
broken reed on which she had insensibly leaned. Oh, 
how had she dared? What craze had swept over her. 
How she had misinterpreted the strong, delightful 
companionship? Bertram Carew was like his father, 
he revivified everyone who came under his influence. 
She had not deliberately construed it to mean any- 
thing, but had yielded to a meaning unwittingly. 

Then, as it was nearing noon, it came out that Mr. 
Murray had promised Mrs. Fanshawe he would bring 
the party home to luncheon. There was some demur, 
but he only laughed in his genial manner, and stopped 
before the house; sprang down from his seat, and 
began to assist the ladies out. 

Mrs. Lepage had a bored sort of curiosity to see 
how these parvenus really lived. She rather grudged 


142 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


the handsome bays and the elegant carriage. Some- 
thing much plainer would better befit their station. 

The long drawing room had been put in summer 
swathing bands, the curtains and portieres were down. 
Tessy uttered a little exclamation. Mrs. Fanshawe 
swept down the stairs and made a pretty, gracious sort 
of apology in the place of the absent mistress. Morna 
— a tall, beautiful girl, a feminine counterpart of her 
father — rushed to Tessy’s arms, almost overturning 
her, and then kissed Dell rapturously. 

“VVe missed you so last winter after you had gone,” 
she said breathlessly. ‘‘And oh, we thought you 
were going to keep Tess forever ! Isn’t Tess the least 
little mite of a thing! Just like mamma.” 

‘‘But you are so tall!” 

‘‘Yes, I must stop growing now. Only, the new girls 
are tall,” laughing in a charming, well-bred fashion. 

They were escorted upstairs to the pretty sitting 
room, where they found everything in admirable 
order, and all conveniences at hand. 

Mrs. Fanshaw was deeply interested in Alice. 

‘‘How very little you have changed!” she said. 
‘‘You look hardly a day over eighteen. Am I to con- 
gratulate somebody for the prize he has won? I hope 
you will be very happy. Mrs. Longworth, I suppose, 
is having a splendid time. I saw an account of their 
visiting the Alhambra.” 

Mrs. Lepage replied with a little hauteur. Her 
eyes wandered sharply, almost rudely about. There 
was nothing to criticise. She might have been in the 
house of one of her chosen friends. If the appoint- 
ments were not lavish, they were in excellent taste. 

‘‘Of course Mrs. Fanshawe has helped civilize these 
people,” she thought to herself, half angrily. 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF YOUTH. 


143 


The dining room had no; been disturbed. There 
were flowers enough for a feast, but so perfectly- 
arranged there was no air of overprofusion. The 
glass, the silver, and china were fine and handsome. 
There was an air of everyday using about Mr. 
Murray, a courtesy of the heart and true manhood 
that easily takes up and adopts the best usages of 
society. He was as much at ease with Lady Ashton 
as if he had been reared in the same circle. But there 
was no pretense, no straining after effect, no disdain- 
ing of the old simplicities lest people should suspect 
some humbler origin. 

“We might have an afternoon in the stores, just 
looking about,” Aunt Julia said, when they were mak- 
ing ready to go. “To-morrow we must begin in 
earnest. Tessy, will you have time to join the girls? 
I know they would like to compare opinions with you.” 

Tessy colored with pleasure. 

“Then you will have to go to the dressmaker’s this 
afternoon,” said Mrs. Fanshawe. ‘‘She has been 
very much relieved to have one customer willing to 
wait. I do not think there is anything to prevent.” 

So they settled it that way. 

They came home at length tired and in a confused 
state of mind. The afternoon had almost spoiled the 
morning. 

“Aunt Julia,” Alice said, “I never shall want these 
loads and loads of things! You have been extrava- 
gant ! ” 

“Oh, you may, sometime. It is Aunt Aurelia’s 
wish.” 

Millicent had been home a long while, and was 
bright and rested, entering at once into their pleasure. 

“Was your luncheon delightful?” asked Alice, 


144 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“Yes, only I wished for one of you. There was a 
Mr. Southgate, Bertram’s friend, and he brought a 
charming young man who has taken the chair of 
literature in a California university, and who has 
written some very fine criticisms — who is writing a 
book,’’ and Milly blushed and smiled. “Mr. South- 
gate is not young, almost to middle life. Yes, he was 
very nice and kind.’’ 

Then she stopped suddenly and seemed not to want 
to talk any more about it. But a strange mysterious 
light kept hovering over her face and touching her 
eyes with an inward sense of something — joy, satis- 
faction, perhaps. Did anyone besides Dell note it? 

Uncle Stanwood came over in the evening, and 
teased Alice with a little jolly pleasantry. 

“And next it will be Dell’s turn,’’ he said. 

It brought a bright color to her face, which was 
succeeded a moment later by paleness. 

The main business began the next day. Millicent 
was as eager and earnest as the girls. She had been 
deputed by her father to buy some handsome silver, 
and there was her own gift to consider. Among 
them all Alice should hardly miss her lost fortune. 

There was napery and bed linen. China they meant 
to eschew, as too troublesome for the long distance. 
Laces and gowns of simple description, since Alice 
would not use any brighter colors than lavender and 
soft grays. 

Very fascinating work they found it. Millicent 
seemed to come out of her abstraction into the sweet- 
ness and interest of her own young life. Dell watched 
with a curious wonder. Was she so happy? 

They had a great surprise the following morning 
when Leonard walked in among them. 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF YOUTH. 145 

“Upon my word!” he said, with the old spoiled- 
child air. “You look at me as if I was a ghost, and 
not a blessed ghost, either! I suppose I have no right 
to intrude upon a women’s party, but you might give 
me a word of welcome!” 

“What has happened?” gasped Aunt Julia. 

“Nothing that I know of. I have come solely for 
pleasure. I thought you would feel lonely without a 
man among you.” 

“But we had Major Stanwood last evening,” said 
Lady Ashton. “And Mr. Murray took us to drive 
in the park. We have not been lone, lorn women, 
exactly.” 

“And Milly had three gentlemen,” began Alice, 
with a glint of mischief. 

“You dwarf me into insignificance! My pity for 
you has been misapplied. I feel de trap.'* 

Millicent looked inquiringly at him. 

“I might have come if you had not been here,” 
he said, with a suggestion of laughter in his face. 
“But in my large charity I hoped to take you all 
in. Dell, do you object to being an object of 
beneficence?” 

“I — it depends,” and Lyndell flushed. 

“It all came of a notice I saw in a paper. For 
years I’ve wanted to see a play or a fantasy, give it 
whatever name you like — ‘Midsummer Night’s 
Dream,’ and it is here in this very city. Now you 
have the whole of this strange and moving surprise. 
If none of you will go with me I must perforce go 
alone.” 

“Oh!” cried Dell, in delight. Alice looked her 
pleasure. 

“What a treat!” exclaimed Millicent. “Len, we 


146 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


will give you a double welcome,” and she pressed his 
hand. 

“I thought I should be able to move your obdurate 
hearts at length,” with a soft, triumphant laugh. 

”We must send for Uncle Dick,” declared Aunt 
Julia. ‘‘And I do wonder if Tessy ” 

‘‘Tessy would be wild with delight,” said Dell. 
‘‘She is music mad.” 

‘‘Then she has not ” Leonard glanced up 

inquiringly. 

‘‘They are all going to-morrow to the south shore 
of Long Island. Oh, someone ought to fly up 
there at once ” 

‘‘I am going for the tickets. I suppose you do not 
want a box this warm night? I like balcony seats 
better. There is no style left in the city to comment 
upon us. And will someone write a note to Miss 
Murray? I will be the bearer.” 

‘‘I will, with pleasure,” responded Lyndell. 

‘‘And if we could get word to Dr. Carew.” 

Dell heard the soft voice as she went out of the room 
to find her writing materials. Yes, it was only natural 
that Millicent should think of him. 

‘‘It would be like hunting a needle in the hay. I 
dare say he is mewed up in a hospital or gone off with 
some poor children’s excursion, or in the midst of 
an operation. I have his address somewhere.” 

“Here are both addresses,” said Millicent, handing 
him a card. 

‘‘Let us send a special messenger, then. Milly, 
write and explain ; that’s a dear! When I am off on a 
lark the touch of a pen gives me a chill. While you 
are doing that I’ll count noses and see how many 
tickets I want,” 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF YOUTH. 


147 


“For the whole family?” ejaculated Aunt Julia. 

“Exactly ! Theaters are not apt to be crowded at 
this season, so we can all be taken in.” 

Just as Dell came back with her note Millicent 
sealed and directed that to Dr. Carew. 

“Are you sure you have made all explanations, Lyn- 
dell, so that the Murrays will not think we have a 
lunatic in our midst?” Leonard asked gravely. “I 
may not see her.” 

“Then you will have to consider when and how we 
shall meet her. Or you could go up after her in 
advance.” 

“The advance guard of the Grand Army — yes,” 
and he laughed as if amused. 

“We 7vere going out,” subjoined Aunt Julia. 

“Well, there are some calls I can make, and I will 
try to put in the weary day somehow. You will see 
me about five, I think. Adieu.” 

“What a queer caper!” Mrs. Stanwood said, 
breaking the silence after Leonard had gone. “Or 
have I been dreaming?” 

“We couldn’t all have dreamed just alike,” replied 
Dell mirthfully. “But think how splendid it will be!” 

Lady Ashton and Mrs. Lepage decided they would 
not try the shopping. Aunt Julia went out with the 
two girls. Dell’s heart was so full of delight she felt 
as if she were treading on air. The day was much 
warmer, and they had a rather leisurely time. 

“I am quite sure we have enough to last a life- 
time,” said Alice. “You will bankrupt Aunt Aurelia.” 

“We are almost through now. To-morrow we 
might venture up to West Point, I think. I will talk 
to Uncle Dick about it to-night. Lady Ashton is 
going to start for Toronto, and your mother” — to 


148 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Alice — “goes to Newport. So we shall not be like the 
King of France. Our forty thousand won’t march 
back with us.” 

‘‘I want to see it all and do all that is needful, but 
I am longing for the large rooms and the great shady 
porch at Sherburne,” declared Alice. 

They were really expeditious to-day. There was 
no one to cavil or criticise. They went home quite 
early, and refreshed themselves with a rest. A mes- 
sage had been received from Uncle Dick, and a little 
later one came from Dr. Carew. Both might be 
expected. 

Leonard was on hand promptly. 

“We shall have to go up for Tessy,” he said to 
Dell. “That seemed the best arrangement to make.” 

Lyndell was nothing loath. Leonard was in a 
delightful brotherly mood. Tessy was all eagerness. 
Her eyes had a soft, starry look, and her cheek the 
tint of a peach. Dell thought she had hardly ever 
seen her so lovely. 

The seats were in two rows, so that the party would 
be nearer together. Leonard and the two girls came 
first. He put Tessy in the last seat, himself next, and 
then Dell. There were two more and four right 
behind them. Milly came in next to Dell; the elders 
had the other seats. 

The setting of the play was exquisite, the music 
enchanting. The delicate merriment, the dancing, the 
spell of love that transformed the lovers themselves, 
the dainty songs moved them all. Leonard Beau- 
manoir had shut off Tessy — was it by design, that no 
one could watch the blossoming of the primrose face? 
He was so tall he shielded her from any chance curious 
glance. As for Dell, she forgot everything. She did 


THE ENCHANTMENT OF YOUTH. 


149 


not want to look at Millicent, she could feel the joy 
in her face. The delicious music and the story 
moved her immeasurably. She would have rejoiced 
to go to some far fairyland. 

They came out in the foyer. Leonard looked at 
his watch, and considered. 

“I take the midnight train,” he said. ‘T will have 
just time to escort Miss Murray home, so I will say 
good-by. You will see me at Sherburne House soon.” 

“I’ve been enchanted,” declared Carew. “A 
thousand thanks for your thought, Len.” 

“Take charge of Dell. Good-by, everybody.” 

Tessy’s farewells were of necessity brief, but they 
were comforted by promises of letters. 

Bertram slipped Dell’s hand through his arm as 
they threaded their way to the car. At the entrance 
to their hotel he left them. 

Mrs. Lepage would not go to West Point. The 
girls were eager to see Archie, who was a fine manly 
lad, and looked every inch a soldier in his regimentals; 
who had some special indulgences this day on account 
of his father’s standing. His mother had written to 
him about Alice, and she seemed to have a new and 
sacred quality in his eyes. ‘‘But I am glad you are 
not engaged; you really are not?” he questioned 
Dell eagerly. ‘‘Next year I shall be through this 
horrid grind, and I want you to come up to the grand 
ball. And I mean to have one splendid visit at Sher- 
burne. Oh, Cousin Dell! I hope you won’t be mar- 
ried by that time.” 

‘‘I shall not be married by that time,” repeated 
Dell confidently. ‘‘Perhaps not in a long time.” 

‘‘Do you remember the summer at Gardiner’s? 
You have changed so much; yet you have the same 


150 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

brown eyes, with their infinite capacity of merriment 
and sadness. What a summer it was, and how many 
changes! 1 should like to go back to childhood 
again. Dell, you are happy now? You have won 
the right, surely!” 

“I have been very happy,” she said. “And I hope 
to make you all welcome at Sherburne House for 
many a long year to come” 

“I don’t think there will ever be anyone quite 
noble enough for you to marry. And yet I should 
hate to have you stay single.” 

He flushed at his own speech. She colored, too, 
and then laughed nervously. 

“Next April I shall be twenty-one, and come into 
my kingdom. Not that it will make any difference. 
I have come into so many good things, so much love 
among you all. I must begin to make returns.” 

“Oh, Dell! you have made the returns. You have 
been the bravest ” 

“Oh, hush!” she cried. “I am trying to do my 
duty in the place God has put me. I often fall short. 
I make mistakes.” 

“It is the other life that has the promise of being 
free from them.” 

The day seemed too short. Archie hated to let 
them go. But the sail down the river in the late 
afternoon was^ enchanting. 

They said good-by to Lady Ashton with regret and 
a hope of having her back again presently. Mrs. 
Lepage had a headache and declared she did not 
feel at all like going to Newport, but she went 
nevertheless. 

The four left turned their faces homeward. The 
week had been crowded full, and they were tired. 


THE ENCHANTMENT OE YOUTH. 15 1 

But Millicent had some new charm, an exquisite sat- 
isfaction that lighted up her face. 

How many times in the years to come Dell would 
listen to love stories, and read the blessedness by 
some more subtle wordless language ! But she would 
never have any of her own, she said, with the unreason 
of youth. She would be Miss Sherburne of Sherburne 
House. 


CHAPTER X. 


A CONFIDENCE. 

L YNDELL was swinging in the hammock this 
j drowsy summer afternoon, while Nature’s orches- 
tra, tuned to a minor key, was chording in sweet 
improvisations. She was fond of music with “no set 
tune,” as she called it. Sometimes melodies ran 
through her brain; seemed so near, so perfect, that 
she could transcribe them. But though she picked 
out the air, the blended harmonies came far short of 
her vague illusions. So, when poetry stirred her and 
set every nerve, athrill, it seemed as if she might dis- 
entangle the floating sweetness and set it to words. 
What was the marvelous gift called genius? Was she 
hopelessly commonplace? And yet everything moved 
her so. 

Sooner or later she seemed thrust aside in other 
matters. Was there some fatal lack in her? She was 
beginning a course of introspection, a disease common 
to youth when dreams have fallen in the background. 

Something brought the failure home to her this 
afternoon. She had been very near to Alice since the 
visit at Trenholme Court and the beautiful summer 
together. Nearer still in the sorrow, and oh ! so near 
in the delicious joy that had fallen out of the heavens, 
as it were, out of the very hands of a smiling Provi- 
dence. Yet as soon as they returned to Sherburne 
House Violet had taken possession of her. Such 


152 


A CONFIDENCE. 


153 


consultations over wedding gear, such speculations 
about the future! Where Alice was timid, Violet 
brought out her wider experience. Dell, of course, 
had never been in love, and knew nothing about it, 
said these radiant young women. 

Alice blossomed royally in this new atmosphere. 
Dell was jealous. She never waited for people to 
push her out, she always stepped aside. She would 
not ask for anything not freely given. She was not 
quick to right the disturbed atoms about her when 
they touched anything belonging to her in an appro- 
priative sense. 

They had only been home a week, yet these two 
girls were the center of everything. The sewing room 
at Sherburne was full to overflowing. Gassy and a 
young handmaiden were making piles of sheets and 
pillow-slips, hemming tablecloths, overcasting the 
fringed towels ; marking, folding, and laying aside in 
the nice clean packing boxes. 

“It is best to have all these things out of the way,” 
said orderly, far-sighted Aunt Aurelia, who was taking 
such an interest that she almost grew young again. 

What was left for her, Lyndell? What would be 
left for her when they went away? 

She and Tessy had been taken with a post-educa- 
tional spasm in the winter. They conversed in 
French, they read some heavy German that almost 
quenched Tessy’s ardor, some light Italian that they 
had a misgiving would be of little service. 

“I shouldn’t care ever to live abroad in a foreign 
country,” Tessy said. “If I should marry,’’ and the 
sweet face flushed exquisitely, “I’d like a lovely big 
country house with lots of ground, and just such a 
houseful of children as mamma has had. And though 


154 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

it is nice to know these wonderful things, and all 
about electricity and the sciences — it doesn't seem a 
real woman’s life, with love and all the sweet things 
in it.” 

“But we ought not forget what we have learned, ’’ 
Dell returned emphatically. 

However, pleasures had interfered. Then there 
would be the quiet weeks at Sherburne. Nothing 
much had come of that, with the excitement and sur- 
prise of a lover and much going to and fro. 

And now, when Dell was not needed in the con- 
fidences, she returned to her more solid pursuits. She 
had been trying to fix her mind on a volume of philos- 
ophy, but the soft voices up above kept purling like 
a pleasant brook “in the leafy month of June,’’ and 
abstruse theories were mingled with overmuch bliss. 
So she had taken to the hammock in disgust. She 
was thinking a little of the years to come. They did 
not look as bright as they used. Was it because the 
decade of girlhood was almost gone? Did people 
grow graver when they had passed one-and -twenty? 
These two girls upstairs were past that, and were 
sipping their cup of nectar, and one had some bitter- 
ness first. 

There was a little rustle, and a light step on the 
walk. Dell raised her head. Although in white, it 
was no ghost; but Millicent von Lindorm — beautiful, 
sweet, and gracious, a rare vision of content. Was 
Milly ever restless and questioning? But then every- 
thing came to her. Yes, and a poignant sorrow, also. 
Joy was interspersed. 

Dell turned* suddenly and brought her feet to the 
ground; would have risen, but Milly put out her hand. 

“Let me come and sit here,’’ she said. “You have 


A CONFIDENCE. 


155 


no other seat except the rustic bench so far away that 
if I whispered a secret the reeds and the grass would 
surely hear.” 

She kissed Dell on the forehead, and seated herself 
beside her. Then they sw’ung slowly to and fro in the 
fragrant air, pungent with the scent of pines distilled 
by the sunshine. 

“The girls are upstairs,” Dell said, a moment later. 
“And Aunt Aurelia and Aunt Jue.” 

“But I came to see you.” Millicent smiled across 
to the rather grave face. Her own seemed trans- 
figured by some rare light — was it happiness? An 
inward coldness like a protest swept over the girl. 

“Dell,” said the soft, clear, tender voice that in 
spite of resistance found its way to the younger heart, 
“our friendship seems to have spaces of a curious kind 
of delay or waiting in it. Is it because of the many 
things that come between? But one person can never 
quite fill another’s life. I suppose God set it that way 
lest we might grow too narrow and selfish. Husbands 
and wives do sometimes.” 

“Yes.” There was a sound of dissatisfaction in 
the young voice, of seeming regret that it should be 
thus. 

“I am older and have ‘supped of sorrow.’ I used 
to feel that it was not right to shadow your youth or 
Violet’s. Mamma and I took great comfort together. 
And in my solitary hours a new, wonderful knowl- 
edge grew up within me; an inspiration that I hardly 
dared believe in at first!” 

If they were anywhere else! Lyndell Sherburne 
thought. If some friendly shade or darkness would 
hide her face until “this storm was overpast!” 

“Something so delightful that at first I gloated over 


156 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

the sweet knowledge. Yes, I really did. And quite 
by accident another person found it out, and what 
shall I say? — guided me, advised me, really took me 
in hand,” and she laughed softly. “He knew so 
much more about the greater world than I.” 

Dell let her head droop a little toward Millicent’s 
shoulder, and the other put her disengaged arm 
around the girl’s neck. She was safer so. She felt 
the inward chill had taken all the color from her face. 
Where was her heroism in this strait? 

“When it was a fact, I wanted to tell you — to show 
you. But papa had a curious feeling about it. He 
thought I might be mistaken, or that it might not 
amount to much. We are outgrowing the old-fash- 
ioned notions about women, but he clings to them.” 

Yes, Dell understood Milly’s second marriage so 
soon would strike hard against Uncle Beaumanoir’s 
notions of propriety. 

‘‘Why, Dell, you are not a bit curious? Have you 
lost interest in me?” She tried with her shoulder to 
turn the face a little. ‘‘Have I hurt you by my reti- 
cence? But you went to New York, and Miss Murray 
came down here, and you and Alice have been such 
friends. Perhaps I feel older than I really am. And . 
yet I don’t want to lose you, dear. I should like to 
think you cared and would rejoice with me.” 

‘‘Yes, I do, 1 shall,” said the half smothered voice. 

‘‘But you don’t know,” somewhat puzzled, “unless 
Bertram told you.” 

“No,” returned Dell, a little more firmly. “But 
you two had so much business together.” 

She braced herself for the confession. Yes, she 
/lad suspected it. She should have settled her mind 
to the fact instead of allowing herself vague fantasies. 


A CONFIDENCE. 


157 


“Do you care to hear?” The voice was low, 
entreating. 

“Oh, yes, yes!” Dell raised her face of her own 
accord and kissed Millicent with a passionate anguish, 
but the pain was known only to herself. 

“You have a right to feel a little hurt,” said Milli- 
cent gravely. “VVe were going to be such friends. 
Dell, I was at fault in the other annoyance, about 
Leonard,” and she flushed. “I have been at fault 
now, but it was partly circumstances, and I thought you 
were so occupied by other matters. It was engross- 
ing, too, to live my little romance to myself. It 
began long ago, in the sorrow. There were nights 
when an awful sense of loneliness would sweep over 
me. I used to put out my hand and fancy I could 
clasp Emil's, and be comforted.” 

There was a pause. And she could overlive this! 
Dell thought with a secret indignation. 

“When I was a girl at school I used to write 
verses. One of the teachers set a little song to 
music. But I had a feeling that a true poet was 
something grand and high, quite above ordianry 
mortals. I was having a young girl’s good, happy 
time, and sighed for nothing more. But in these 
hours of solitary thought the gift came to me, took 
possession of me. I wrote verses to Emil — I could 
not help it, and then it comforted me so.” 

“Oh, Milly!” Dell’s heart was touched by a 
strain of love and penitence. She wanted to kneel 
to her. 

“Last summer, when Bertram was here — father 
feels toward him almost as if he were a son, he thinks 
he owes so much of Leonard’s restoration to him, and 
he is quite as proud as the doctor of Bertram’s sue- 


158 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

cess. He is going to be such a grand, many-sided 
man, who will gather in rich knowledges and deal 
them out again with generous hands. He finds some 
time for intellectual society. He has written some 
able essays with new broad views, and has made many 
delightful friends. He is really one of the coming 
men.” 

There was a gratified delight in Millicent’s tone. 

“Well, last summer — I must at least get to the be- 
ginning,” and she gave Dell a tender pressure of the 
arm, “it came out in a very odd fashion. Nora had 
been in my room making havoc of my affairs and 
gone out armed with them. Bertram met her in the 
walk, and captured her and the spoils. There was no 
one around, I think, and as he suspected and was 
very eager to know,” laughing and blushing rather 
nervously, “we read over some of the verses to- 
gether, and I confessed to a story. We had a long 
talk about using our gifts, and woman’s work in the 
world, and all that, and he urged me to make a trial 
in earnest. He took two of the poems up to the city 
with him, and oh, Dell! they were accepted and con- 
sidered not only worthy of a check, but a very high 
compliment as well. I had not whispered a word 
to anyone, but then I told papa.” 

Millicent gave a sigh in the pause. 

“And he was delighted,” interposed Dell. 

“No, he was not quite delighted, though he ad- 
mitted one of the poems brought tears to his eyes. 
When I told him, I had sent Bertram another poem 
and a pathetic little local story, and these saw the 
light also. But papa was afraid of many things. He 
has an old-fashioned prejudice against literary women, 
and so dislikes their lives being made public property. 


A CONFIDENCE. 


159 


I think, too, he has a little fear that they will cease to 
be domestic and long for notice and notoriety. And 
then one may be a favorite to-day, and next year 
almost forgotten. It tends to keep one in a state of 
feverish expectancy and too often ends in disappoint- 
ment. No, he wasn’t enthusiastic at all. I thought 
I would give it up to please him. But it did seem to 
take the second hope of my life. I did not think it 
had become so much to me. And presently he said 
he would not object if I would keep it a secret from 
everyone but Bertram until I was certain. I believe 
his yielding was partly mamma’s influence. The lives 
of girls and women are changing and broadening out, 
whether for good or ill. And Bert said pithily that 
when God gave a man or a woman a genius for cook- 
ing or teaching school, no one made any objection to 
their using it; and when he gave either of them a 
higher genius there was no reason why the woman 
should bury her talent and the man use his!” 

“Oh, Milly, Milly!” Dell was sobbing on her 
ncek. There was such a great revulsion of feeling. 

”My dear cousin, it ought not to excite you so. You 
are trembling like a leaf.” Millicent was amazed. 

Dell laughed with a short, hysterical sound. “It is 
not that altogether, Milly. I’ve been foolish all day, 
just as if I wanted a good excuse for crying. And 
now it is all over, a sun shower. Oh, Milly, how 
delightful it must be ! I could find it in my heart to 
envy you. Sometimes I hardly know what to do with 
myself. And Bertram’s friends that you met in New 
York ” 

“There is quite a story about that. Mr. Southgate, 
it appears, is a very well-known literary man with a 
kindly heart, and Bert thinks an excellent judgment, 


i6o A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

He has helped a good many young writers with his 
counsel, but when he does not see a promise worth 
while, he does not hesitate to say so. Bert took my 
long story to him. It is rather peculiar, with part of 
the scene laid abroad, and some artistic life in it.” 

Millicent made a pause. 

“Oh, don’t say that he discouraged you!” cried 
Dell, in a tone of entreaty. 

“No. We had some correspondence about it. He 
thought it too brief, almost abrupt in some parts, and 
told me a good deal about style and mistakes young 
writers fell into until they became positive faults. It 
w^as such a delightful letter, so full of wise counsel. 
Some day I must let you see it. And when I thanked 
him for it that day at the luncheon, and wondered 
how he could find time in his busy life to take so 
much pains with others, he laughed and said he only 
did it with those who gave promise of being worth the 
trouble. But the gist of the letter lay in the fact that 
he asked me to rewrite the story entirely, following his 
suggestions, and then send it to him. And this is 
what has kept me so engrossed. I think I must have 
seemed strange to you. Some days I was like another 
person to myself.” 

“Yes, you have!” Dell looked up with shining 
eyes. In her generous enthusiasm she w^as one gleam 
of delight. “And then?” she questioned. 

“I knew, when Mr. Southgate had read it half 
through, he was greatly pleased. He wrote a kindly 
note, that the delay might not seem disheartening to 
me. And it is to go through a magazine at the 
beginning of the new year; then be issued in book 
form. Bertram asked me to come up to New York 
and meet him before he sailed, hence the luncheon 


A CONFIDENCE. 


i6i 


on so short a notice. Did it seem mysterious to 
you?” 

“It is all so strange, so wonderful!” Dell leaped 
out of the hammock and stood before her, taking both 
hands in hers to steady the violent motion, and then 
kissed her rapturously. “It is another romance 
with its patient waiting. Oh, Milly, I am so glad! 
Yes, I was a little hurt sometimes.” Yet she smiled 
with a happy intensity that gave her face its brightest 
expression. 

“I wanted to tell you so much that I was afraid if 
I began any explanation I would only make a mystify- 
ing blunder. And I was so engrossed, so fascinated! 
I don’t wonder papa was afraid of the danger of my 
getting too absorbed. But there will never be any- 
thing just like it again. I wanted so to satisfy Ber- 
tram’s friend when he had been so extremely kind. 
Then all you girls were so busy and so taken up with 
each other, and lovers, and all.” 

Dell kept looking at her steadily, as if fascinated. 

“Little cousin, you will forgive my seeming 
neglect?” 

“Little!” Dell laughed at that, and drew herself 
up to her fullest height. “Oh, Milly! there are no 
words to congratulate you ! If I was going to wish 
for one gift above all others it would be that. A pic- 
ture is only seen by a few, comparatively, but a book 
that goes everywhere, that has something to say to so 
many people ” 

“Pray that I may always have the power and the 
desire to say it rightly. Papa spoke of this — that one 
might do a great deal of false teaching, be tempted 
into dangerous by-paths. Yet we sometimes have to 
live through dangers and temptations and doubts. If 


i 62 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE, 


the stories were not lived there never could be any 
written.” 

“But the strangeness of it! That it should be one 
of us!” and Dell kept looking out of surprised eyes. 
”1 couldn’t write any verses worth reading. I have 
tried. I simply can’t do anything!” she cried, in 
half despair. 

‘‘Your presence and courage saved the children in 
the boat that summer day long ago. And you made 
Gifford’s rescue possible; yes, you really saved him. 
And you won us all when we stood coldly aside. Dell, 
Dell ! you have been living stories right along. And 
your loyalty to the Murrays converted Aunt Aurelia. 
Many a little girl, coming into a new life, might have 
forgotten or cast off her old friends. I think, too, 
you have had an influence on Leonard. I sometimes 
hear him quote you. And though we felt dreadfully 
disappointed over the untoward turn of affairs last 
summer, I shall feel that he is a better and more 
manly man to-day than if you had weakly condoned 
his fault.” 

Dell’s face flushed to its utmost capacity. 

‘‘And now, dear, I trust you to keep my secret. I 
think papa feels afraid of criticisms and all that, and 
is rather nervous about having it known unless the 
story should be well received. But so many beautiful 
stories have been written that perhaps no one can be 
the best in every person’s judgment. It is like beauty, 
and the one woman who would capture the world if 
tastes were just alike.” 

‘‘I am very proud of your confidence, Millicent,” 
Dell said gravely. ‘‘I shall respect it to the utter- 
most.” 

‘‘I knew you would, Shall we go up and seethe 


A CONFIDENCE. 


163 

girls now? Mamma and papa will be over to tea. 
Next week Mr. Amory is coming, and the final 
arrangements are to be made. Dell, dear, we must 
be a great deal to each other this winter.” 

Aunt Aurelia was coming out on the porch. They 
stopped and talked to her. Would she be surprised 
at a genius in the family, Dell wondered. 

The carriage drove up. Milly took her mother’s 
bonnet and shawl, an old-fashioned crape that she 
nearly always put in for a little protection if the night 
air blew up fresh. 

“We have been packing,” announced Violet. 
“Look at those lovely piles. It almost makes me 
wish I was going to housekeeping. Isn’t it just splen- 
did to look after these things yourself? When I am 
abroad and very homesick, I shall get some of the old 
novels and read about Miss Betty hemming her table- 
cloths, or Miss Mary doing the long overseam in 
sheets. It is romantic, but we have wide muslin and 
a sewing machine.” 

“Girls,” said Aunt Julia, looking in, “I am afraid 
you will ruin your constitutions by such close appli- 
cation.” 

They laughed at that, and begged her to come and 
inspect the beautiful marking. Presently they all 
went down and had a gay chat on the porch. After 
supper they had a delightful time, singing. 

“How we shall miss them!” Mr. Beaumanoir said. 
“I hope another family will grow up here at Sher- 
burne to have just as good times.” 

Then he gave a soft sigh. If it was God’s will the 
old prayer should be answered ! 

“You will come over to-morrow?” Milly said, with 
her good-night kiss to Dell. 


164 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Alice had a long, long letter to brood over that had 
come in the evening’s mail. Floyd was restless and a 
little feverish, so Aunt Julia sat by him. Dell 
was alone, out on the step of the porch, looking at 
Millicent’s confidence of the afternoon, as if it were a 
spirit robed in the soft shimmer of the twilight. 

True, it had not brought her a certainty. She was 
glad of that. She wanted a little more time to 
adjust herself. Did she really care so much for Ber- 
tram Carew? 

She must have it out some time with her own soul. 
For if she cared in any covetous, desiring way, it was 
a feeling to be uprooted. The girlhood that was glad 
and friendly and ready to take all good things, such a 
little while ago, had vanished. She was a woman, 
and the woman’s knowledges and demands startled 
her. The nearness was not enough. She wanted to 
share great thoughts and high purposes, the questions 
that were stirring and awakening the world, with 
someone strong enough to guide, who would help her 
to discern the truths that floated vaguely through her 
brain. Someone to uplift and strengthen, to point 
out paths where she could do real work, not fritter 
her years in purposeless efforts, nor trifling everyday 
pleasures. If God had implanted this yearning and 
desire in her heart, did he mean she should strive 
against it and crush it out? 

Twenty years! That, surely, was enough for child- 
ish, girlish gratifications; for purely youthful delights. 
There were beautiful untried years looming up before 
her, and she wanted to put something worthy in them, 
not the mere everyday things. She had felt herself 
stirred and kindled by the depth and width and 
blessedness of higher use. She wanted to draw from 


A CONFIDENCE. 


165 

every day its grand measure and fullness, and she 
could not do it by herself. She wanted to be lifted 
into this higher atmosphere, and she knew who had the 
power to do it. Why not for her as well as another? 
That other had so many uplifting gifts in her own soul. 

Alice’s ideals of life had come to her. Strength 
and manliness and tender love to rest in — to be so 
enfolded she should desire nothing from without. It 
had stirred this other heart long before, a blessed gift 
on the way for her acceptance, when another had 
raised a finger and turned it almost aside ; yet God 
had been keeping watch and ward. 

A vaguely comprehended sense of a lifetime loss 
swept over her. In these first protesting moments she 
felt as if she must strive to recover it. Of what use? 
Milly was armed with her beauty, her infinite grace, 
her genius. Her experiences had shaped and ripened 
her. Dell felt she had hardly emeregd from the crude- 
ness of girlhood. A mortifying sense stole over her. 

Had God any plans for her life? How was she to 
know them? Hope or joy fulfilled, or merely quiet 
acquiescence? A reflected ray, perhaps, from other 
lives, warm with love and nearness; but would that be 
all? She had once enthusiastically believed it was 
her duty, and would be her pleasure, to restore the 
hope about Sherburne. Her cheek burned now as 
she recalled the calm certainty of her loving, of the 
great mistake she had not been allowed to make. If 
people were kept from such things, might not the 
other things kept from them be not just what wd!i 
needed? She did not want to answer the question, 
but shrank back in dismay. The wound was too 
recent. 

But there was a clear obligation before her: She 


i66 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


could not go on dreaming and desiring what would 
never be hers. For it seemed as if she had discerned 
the unerring relation of events, the harmonies that 
had evolved a little in the beginning, been checked, 
and then in God’s own providence gone on again. 
She asked with a reverent wonder -if Millicent would 
choose Emil von Lindorm now, knowing her own 
powers better? 

In all this there was a strong and beautiful friend- 
ship for her. Bertram had continued his father’s in- 
terest in her; nay, a wider one, because he was more 
conversant with the larger needs and purposes. They 
would draw her into that fascinating life with so much 
gentleness that no one could object. But could she 
take her place beside them? Oh, not now I while the 
sense of loss was so bitter. 

Could she blame herself for seeing just what she 
wanted? 

It did come to people in this world. It had come 
to Alice. One could not help the lightning glimpse. 
But it must be put away, lest it led to envying and 
coveting, which was quite possible- with her strong 
nature. She could not tell how she knew it, but she 
did know in her soul that resignation would come 
easier to Millicent. 

“Are you here all alone?” asked Aunt Julia, in her 
fond, rich tone, that seemed to carry comfort. 

Dell sprang up. The reverie was going around in 
a circle. The pain was too new to be brooded over 
in this fashion. She put her arm around her aunt’s 
neck, and pressed her- cheek against the other. 

“I am glad it is not quite your time for love 
affairs,” the elder said, with a soft laugh. “We 
couldn’t spare all our girls.’’ 


A CONFIDENCE. 


167 


A new thought came to Lyndell Sherburne. If she 
chose some such destiny as her desire prefigured, she 
must go away from Sherburne House. 

“And you are glad to keep me a little longer?” 

“Glad! I think you are just coming to the appre- 
ciation of everything. The years from twenty to 
twenty-five are really the richest in a girl’s life, unless 
she is overanxious about marrying, and that you need 
not be. But I hope, Dell, that you will marry 
happily. The old platitude about it rounding out a 
woman’s life is most true. Wifehood and motherhood 
are among the blessed gifts of God. It makes us 
understand the mystery and the richness of the world 
to come.” 

“But suppose. Aunt Jue,” — Dell hesitated, — “sup- 
pose a woman never met her ideal. Would something 
lower satisfy her all along, do you think?” 

“A girl’s ideal is apt to be very strongly idealized. 
That leads to so many mistaken marriages. And in 
the years after twenty you go down more to the real 
heart of things, the worth, the qualities that dominate 
a man. For he changes and improves as well, or else 
degenerates. There is no standing still. Human 
nature wasn’t meant for that.” 

“But if a woman did not meet anyone, did not care 
to marry,” Dell ventured. “Aunt Aurelia ” 

“Aunt Aurelia was a good deal admired in her 
young days, and, report says, rather haughty with her 
lovers. But she had duties as a daughter, and mother- 
hood came to her — we all needed her. Yet some- 
thing has been missed out of her life. Do not take 
her for a pattern, my dear. We shall all be dis- 
appointed, if you do. Are you wearied with the over- 
flowing fondness of these two girls?” and Aunt Julia 


i68 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


laughed, with a softened sense of humor. “Some- 
times, in the grave after-days, the remembered foolish 
sweetness comes back like the glimpse of sunshine 
at the close of a cloudy afternoon. It is not to be 
despised.” 

“Oh, no! I am not tired of them. I shall hate to 
have them go; only they will be very happy.” 

“As you will be when your time of love comes.” 

Aunt Julia kissed her fondly. Dell kept down the 
cry that rose in her heart. She did not want anyone 
to wish her happiness. She was young enough to 
think mental suffering brave, and she meant to endure 
in silence. Besides, she would be ashamed to have 
anyone know that she had almost given her heart 
unasked. She was not really in love, but she could 
have loved truly, enthusiastically, if it had been asked 
of her. 

There was nothing to put in its place — she wanted 
to fix this fact firmly in her mind — only living right 
straight along in the next things. Aunt Aurelia was 
almost fifty years older than herself. Would she be 
better or worse when forty-seven years, to be exact, 
had come and gone? There were no daughterly 
duties for her; there would be so few children left. 
Ah, was Sherburne House to lose its old delightful 
prestige in her hands? 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE FLIGHT OF A BIRDLING. 

Aunt Julia!” Dell cried, with three or four 
letters in her hand. “Come and tell me what had 
better be done. I am quite at sea.” 

Tessy had begged her to come to them on South 
Bay. Lady Ashton wondered if one or two or three 
of them could not be expressed to Canada, and visit 
Quebec and Montreal, and go up the St. Lawrence, 
taking the journey home by water. 

“What next?” asked Aunt Julia laughingly. “A 
trip to the moon, or the furthermost isles of the sea?” 

“Nothing, really, forme. Yes — to go to Philadel- 
phia.” 

“Oh, Lyndell! has anything happened with that 
foolish girl?” 

The tone changed to one of distress, and she came 
out to Dell, who was on the porch reading her letters. 

“Yes, something has happened, but it is wonderful. 
Perhaps the best; Mrs. Weir thinks so.” 

“Is she going to be safely married?” 

“Oh, Aunt Jue, is that your remedy for every 
difficulty under the sun?” laughed Dell. “No, it is 
not marriage, but it seems a case of falling in love. 
And a splendid opportunity, such as may never happen 
again. Read Mrs. Weir’s letter.” 

Mrs. Stanwood seated herself on the step. Dell 
went over the queer, snatchy epistle of Anita Garcia, 


170 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


who begged that she might be allowed to accept, as if 
Lyndell Sherburne was the sole arbiter of her destiny, 
and expressed here and there such a wild adoration, 
unlike her precise, formal little epistles, that Dell was 
amazed. 

Mrs. Weir’s letter was concise and to the point. 
She premised that she had the highest confidence in 
Miss Waring’s judgment, or she should not have 
allowed her to take charge of Miss Garcia, though they 
were excellent friends. Miss Waring was past thirty, 
and of a severely practical tendency. They had gone 
to a quiet little town in Maine, where but few boarders 
found their way. But among the few this summer 
had been quite a noted singer, little known by her 
husband’s name, as she had won most of her triumphs 
under that of her girlhood. She had heard Miss 
Garcia sing in the little country church, and sought 
her out in a friendly manner, offering her a few 
lessons, and taking a kindly, apparently casual, 
interest in her, until assured that the girl really gave 
great promise. Then she had questioned Miss War- 
ing about her and been referred to Mrs. Weir. That 
lady had been surprised by a visit from a personage 
so well known as Mine. Barry proved to be. 

Out of this had grown an offer quite too good, Mrs. 
Weir thought, to decline. Mme. Barry proposed to 
take Miss Garcia for the next five years, as a pupil 
and almost younger sister. During that time she was 
to have complete control of her training, and whatever 
public singing was considered best for her. There 
was no question but that she would excel in operatic 
music, for she seemed a born actress in facility of 
expression; in the depth and intensity of her feeling ; in 
the impassioned face, with its varied emotional capac- 


THE FLIGHT OF A BIRDLING. 171 

ity. After that period she would be capable of making 
her way with the world, of commanding a position. 

Mrs. Weir had seen both Mme. Barry and her hus- 
band several times. There could be no doubt of their 
earnestness and sincerity. Miss Garcia had returned 
to Philadelphia, and now only the sanction of her 
friends at Sherburne House was needed. 

“I do not see what objection there can be," said 
Mrs. Stanwood, after perusing the letter a second 
time. “Mme. Barry is so well known, and if 
Mrs. Weir, with her wide experience of people, 
approves " 

Truth to tell, a great burden seemed lifted. Mrs. 
Stanwood had often pondered the future of this girl 
so curiously linked with Dell. And five years’ 
absence ! Everybody would have forgotten about her 
by that time. It was the best thing that could happen 
to Dell ; a perfect relief. 

“Why, no; there can be no objection," repeated 
Dell, almost staring at Aunt Julia. “And isn’t it 
splendid?" 

“She wants to go, of course?" * 

“Yes. She is enchanted with Mme. Barry." Dell 
sighed. She was curiously jealous. 

“You will go, of course. You seem her self- 
appointed guardian, though I do not see any real 
power that belongs to you. But you cannot go 
alone." 

“Then you must come with me. I should be 
afraid to take such an important step with no one to 
keep me in countenance." 

“Yes, and it may as well be settled as soon as pos- 
sible. It is a very fortunate thing.” 

“She can sing like a bird. It is a wonderful gift." 


172 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Dell seemed to see her again as she stood on the 
station platform that morning, more than a year ago. 
She was a little hurt by the lack of something, not 
quite gratitude, but preference, affection. And the 
more subtle, underlying question haunted her. Had 
Anita really ceased to care for Leonard? 

“We can go to-morrow,” began practical Aunt Jue, 
anxious to have the business settled. “It is not worth 
while to make any explanations; I will tell Aunt 
Aurelia.” 

“But the doctor and Miss Neale will be so glad,” 
said Dell, with a lingering inflection. 

“Oh, yes! you can tell them afterward. And 
Uncle Beaumanoir. They will all rejoice over Miss 
Garcia’s good fortune.” 

She laid the letter back in Dell’s lap. She had a 
desire to know what was in Anita’s, but Dell did not 
proffer it. 

“Now I must go and put matters in train.” 

Dell still sat there, embowered in the green gloom. 
She desired and yet dreaded the meeting. She had 
never been quite sure that her verdict would be 
cheerfully accepted by Anita. How strange that 
lives were so intermingled; that one came into yours 
almost from the ends of the earth, and went out again 
with scarcely a ripple! The sting was in that. One 
was hoping for a great influence, hoping to do some 
real good — toiling all night, perhaps, in the boat, in 
the darkness and uncertainty, and taking nothing. 
Yet this work had been brought to her door — she was 
quite sure of that. 

Someone, later on, might have discovered the beau- 
tiful voice. But, meanwhile, what would have 
happened? 


THE FLIGHT OF A BIRDLTHG. 


173 


Aunt Aurelia spoke of it in a relieved yet kindly 
manner. But she and Aunt Jue had quite a rejoicing 
by themselves. 

“Aunt Aurelia," and Dell smiled with a rather for- 
lorn attempt at mirthfulness, “we do not seem to 
have much success adopting people, do we? Just as 
soon as we have everything planned out for the com- 
fort of our declining days, lovers and fortunes and 
opportunities come to hand. We shall have to grow 
old together." 

Miss Sherburne glanced up into the radiant face, 
that seemed as if it could never grow old, and smiled. 
Dell stooped and kissed her. But would she feel 
satisfied to grow old in this fashion, when she was so 
dissatisfied with her twenty years? 

Alice wondered why they should rush off to Phila- 
delphia in the summer heat. It was a tiresome jour- 
ney, but a lovely shower came up in the afternoon 
and brought a beneficent coolness. 

It was late, but Mrs. Weir had come herself to meet 
them, and insisted upon her hospitality. Dell was 
delighted to see her, and thanked her again and again 
for her kindly interest in Miss Garcia. 

“She was a little troublesome for the first two 
months. She had never been used to any sort of 
discipline. But when she found that she was really 
capable of doing something, I never saw a more 
tractable girl. Do you know anything about her 
family?" Mrs. Weir asked. 

“Dr. Carew found her story true in every respect. 
But her mother had been dead for years, and this 
maid, who might have known, was dead also," replied 
Mrs. Stanwood. 

“It is well to be certain that no unsatisfactory rela- 


174 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


tives can come to hand just when her career is most 
promising. Mme. Barry wanted to be assured posi- 
tively of this. More than one person has been beset 
by an adroit swindler pretending to be a relative.'’ 

“One can be quite sure in this case, I think." 

“Madame is deeply interested in her, and Miss 
Garcia has found a friend worth having. Her for- 
tune is assured unless she should lose her voice, which 
seems hardly possible.” 

They were very tired, and it was deemed advisable 
not to add the excitement of an interview. But Dell 
wondered a little. 

She was barely dressed the next morning when 
a fleet step skimmed along the hardwood floor, and 
there was a dainty, hesitating tap. 

She opened the door. But for the radiance trans- . 
figuring the face, Anita Garcia had hardly changed. 
She looked no older, she had the same petite.^ elusive 
figure, full of curves and subtle turns. Her com- 
plexion was a little fairer, perhaps ; but there was the 
same Oriental suggestion of duskiness, and some 
foreign look, perhaps Spanish. 

“Oh, Miss Sherburne!’’ she cried. Then she 
knelt and clasped her arms about Dell, burying her 
face in the soft gown. 

Dell raised her — she was so like a little child. Her 
face was one deep, tremulous flush. The curious 
fondness woke afresh in Lyndell, as she kissed the 
throbbing lips. 

“You will let me go?’’ Anita cried, with almost a 
sob in her voice. “You will let me go?’' 

“Don’t you know that I haven’t any right; that I 
could not dictate what you shall do?’’ The old hurt 
feeling came back. 


THE FLIGHT OF A BIRD LING. I75 

“You have the only right, dear Miss Sherburne. 
There is no one else to say a word. I have no rela- 
tives, nobody. I don’t mean permission, merely. I 
am almost as old as you, nineteen. You wished once 
that I were your sister. I want you to give me just 
that sort of Godspeed; to care that I shall succeed, 
to be proud of me when I grow famous — as I shall ! 

I feel it all in me ! If I could have gone wishing all 
over the world, I couldn’t have thought of anything 
like this opportunity.” 

‘T do wish you the best of good fortune. And I 
am delighted.” Dell studied her with a feeling of 
mystery, as if she would never be able to understand 
her, to fathom the subtle depths. “You are happy?” 
she ventured. 

A quick dazzle went over Anita’s face. 

“Miss Sherburne, I once thought only one thing in 
the world could make me happy. When I found that 
wrested away from me — no, when I found it had 
never really been mine — it was as if the world had 
been swept away. There were many experiences in . 
those weeks at Sherburne. I did try to steel my heart 
against you. And even now, circumstances may shut 
me out of your life. But I have a clearer appreciation 
of how you saved, me, and how you have made these 
splendid events possible. I want to get down on my 
knees and cry out my gratitude.” 

“And not love!” Lyndell could not restrain the 
cry. 

“Oh, I can dare to love you now. Perhaps it won’t 
matter very much to anyone, or take anything from 
them. I was afraid. And if you thought me hardly 
worth so much love, you could understand another 
person’s passing fancy, and that when it was over noth- 


176 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


ing at a., was left — nothing. I was foolish enough 
to half believe he would come ” 

“And if he had?” It was a crucial moment for 
Lyndell. Her very breath seemed to stop. 

“I did wish he had!” There was a delicate vindic- 
tiveness in her tone as she raised her head proudly, 
her eyes alight with scorn. ‘ ‘After what he had once 
said, I should have known the value of any new prot- 
estations. I should have despised him. Perhaps 
I come of a revengeful race. I will confess all my 
littleness to you. I am learning some better lessons. 
It is so different when you are really taught in child- 
hood. And now. Miss Sherburne, I am glad for his 
sake and mine that he did not come. I honor him 
for his truth-telling, hard as it seemed then. And I 
find that other people make these mistakes. I am not 
the only one.” 

Lyndell flushed with a secret knowledge. 

Anita laughed softly, musically. “All that seems 
in some other life. To-day I would not take that, 
and give up my music, and the chance of a fame like 
Mme. Barry’s. I feel as if that was my crude chrysalis 
state, and all the gorgeous colors of the butterfly are 
within my reach. That is vanity, perhaps, but power 
as well. I sang in the little church that day, and a 
tall, gracious, lovely woman looked at me. I saw the 
surprise, the pleasure, the almost incredulity in her 
eyes, and then I sang just to her. There are triumphs 
like that in store for me. And I would rather have 
them than any man’s love who would want me to sit 
by the fireside and sing to him alone. You are more 
generous than that.” 

Anita Garcia looked curiously beautiful at that 
instant. Her varying expressions gave an indication 


THE FLIGHT OF A BIRD LING. 


177 


of what the face might be when interpreting any 
emotion. She could make it hers at the moment. 
No; having had a taste of the world’s applause, she 
would not rest until she had quaffed all there was. 
Lyndell could not imagine such a nature satisfied with 
a quiet little round. If she had never dreamed of any 
other — but would not the temptation have come some 
time? 

“I want to ask one great thing of you,” Anita 
began beseechingly. “Do not be angry. We can be 
friends, better friends, because no one will ever sus- 
pect me of any ulterior motive. I said once that I 
should repay the money you have spent on me ’’ 

“Oh, Anita! No, I shall not consent ! ’’ Dell inter- 
rupted, with emphasis. 

“Hear me through. In these five years I am going 
to work for Mine. Barry. She advances me this small 
sum. I told her of your goodness, and she quite 
agrees with me. I shall no longer be a pensioner on 
your charity. If you ask me to be friends with you, 
if you care to hear of my improvement, of any 
triumphs that come to me, I shall be glad, proud to 
have so dear and interested a friend. Somewhere in 
the future the social lines may draw nearer.’’ 

“But you might take it as a gift,’’ she pleaded, 
clasping Anita’s dainty hand. 

“You shall give me anything, after the debt is paid. 
I want you and yours to feel that if I came among 
you in an unfortunate manner, I haVe done my best to 
relieve you of a burden, and myself of an obligation. 
As for your good doctor, who took such care of me — 
was I quite a fiend through that time?— and Sherburne 
House, whose lovely doors were opened to me by the 
generous hand of its young mistress, such beneficences 


1 78 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

can never be repaid. Their influence has changed 
my life. Oh, do you suppose I shall ever forget what 
I owe you?” 

Her eyes were lustrous with tears. 

Lyndell was silent. She understood the fine pride 
that dictated this course. For years Anita would take 
herself out of their lives. There would be no tie 
connecting them, save that of friendly intimacy as s/ie 
chose. 

She watched Anita with curious interest as they 
went down to breakfast. She met Mrs. Stanwood 
with a quiet grace that savored of fine breeding, and 
was dignified as well. Afterward she sang for them, 
and Dell was amazed at her improvement. Her voice 
was a lovely mezzo-soprano, with a birdlike clearness 
in the upper notes, a melody that lingered after the 
sound ceased. 

At eleven Mine. Barry and her husband were 
announced. Mrs. Stanwood said briefly, in explain- 
ing Anita’s sudden appearance among them, that her 
nurse had sent her North, hoping she would find the 
friends who had been in Florida a winter or two 
before. But no one had any real claim upon her. It 
had been a fancy of her niece. Miss Sherburne — 
inclining her head toward Dell — that Miss Garcia’s 
voice was unusual and worth cultivating; and with this 
in view she had been sent to Mrs. Weir’s, to whom 
they were all greatly indebted. 

“She made only one condition,” said Mme. Barry, 
smiling over at Dell; “that I should reimburse Miss 
Sherburne for the year’s expenses.” 

“And I refused to take it!” cried Lyndell breath- 
lessly. 

“I wish you to. I was glad to find Miss Garcia 


THE FLIGHT OF A BIRD LING. 1 79 

had such strict notions of honor, let us say honesty. 
She declared that she meant to repay you at the ear- 
liest possible moment. My dear young friend, there 
is justice as well as generosity. You will endear your- 
self more to Miss Garcia by allowing her to cancel this 
obligation. We have put our relations on a business 
footing, though I think I shall end by being extrava- 
gantly in love with the child. She is so piquante and 
original. Such gifts ought not to be lost to the world. 
When she is famous, as I mean her to be, some of the 
credit will be due you. She has been most enthusias- 
tic about you.” 

Lyndell colored with pleasure. 

“We go abroad in September. I have some en- 
gagements to fill. 1 think you can trust her to me 
with no misgivings. I could hardly have been her 
mother, and one of my regrets is that I have had no 
children. But whatever one could do for a child 
shall be done for her, and with just as careful super- 
vision. Then it seems we have only to sign our agree- 
ment with Miss Garcia. Will you be witnesses?” 

Mrs. Stanwood expressed her gratification. She 
was really charmed with Mme. Barry. She had 
heard her sing years before, though much of her time 
recently had been spent abroad. 

When this business had been concluded madame 
took her departure, with the most cordial expressions 
of pleasure at having met Miss Garcia’s friends. 

Mrs. Stanwood decided the night train would be 
much pleasanter for a return. Mrs. Weir and Lyn- 
dell had quite renewed old acquaintanceship, and she 
cordially expressed the gratification she had felt in 
Dell’s preference for her in the matter of Miss 
Garcia. 


iSo A SHERBURNE ROMANCE, 

“It is rather out of the ordinary course of events, 
and certainly Mine. Barry has quite fallen in love 
with your proNg^e. You will feel very proud of your 
share in the transaction, when she is famous.” 

It seemed so strange to Dell to have the matter 
taken entirely out of her hands in this manner. 

If she had doubted Anita’s regard for her before 
this, she understood that for some cause the young 
girl had used a great deal of repression. She need 
never question again whether her answer to Leonard 
had been right or not. She knew that if he had 
earnestly desired to win Anita, he would have gone 
without consulting anyone. 

They could all lay aside any fears for the future. 
Dell experienced a sense of relief in this. What a 
curious chain of incidents it had been all the way 
through ! 

The parting was tenderer than Lyndell could have 
imagined. Then the travelers turned their faces 
toward Sherburne House. 

Lyndell experienced a peculiar melancholy. The 
interest had not gone out of her life, it was true, but 
it was no longer a thing to call forth active plans. 
Was there anything left for real activity? Life seemed 
full of dull shadows with no sunshine behind, no sil- 
ver lining to the vague clouds. 

Aunt Julia watched the grave face as they were 
driving out to Ardmore. 

“Surely, Lyndell,” she exclaimed, in a tender 
tone, “you have nothing to regret? It was one 
chance out of a thousand for Miss Garcia. No mere 
money could have done it for her. And it was really 
too much of a responsibility for a young and inexpe- 
rienced girl like you.” 


THE FLTGHl^ OF A BIRD LING. i8i 

“Oh, no, Aunt Julia! I give thanks to the utter- 
most. It seems a special providence.” 

“I am glad for Laura’s sake, for all their sakes. 
One can never be quite sure of a man’s wayward 
fancy. Leonard, I observe, has come to have a 
highenconscientiousness ; and he might decide that 
it would be only honorable to make her an offer of 
marriage if she remained in this vicinity.” 

“She would not accept him.” Dell was glad to 
say this, though she did not give her authority. 

“There can be no question about it now.” 

No one spoke of this view to Dell, but she felt the 
ease of mind it gave. Everbody rejoiced at Miss 
Garcia’s good fortune. Mme. Barry had too fine a 
reputation in the musical world for this to be less than 
the highest compliment. 

Millicent was free now to take up the old pursuits 
and pleasures, and she made an effort to be more 
than cousinly to Lyndell. The days flew by rapidly. 
Lady Ashton returned in time for Violet’s wedding, 
and was to spend some of the intervening weeks in 
Washington. 

It had not quite the delightful aspect of Millicent's 
wedding, though there were more guests from a dis- 
tance. But the group of young cousins that had 
made the first marriage so enchanting was quite 
broken. Harry Lepage was in Japan, Ethel was still 
abroad, and Archie could not get leave just at that 
juncture. But the old church was beautiful with 
flowers, and the greetings were cordial and heartfelt. 
There was a houseful of guests at Beaumanoir, and 
late in the afternoon the young couple started on 
their journey to New York to take the steamer 
abroad. 


1 82 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

Three weeks later Sherburne House was all astir. 
Bevis Osborne had arrived in splendid looks and 
health, a most enthusiastic lover. Business had gone 
on smoothly, and the plans now were a certainty. 
Gifford had been staying at Sherburne House for 
a fortnight, waiting for some new opening in the 
autumnal stir of business. 

“You had better come out and cast in your lot with 
us,” Mr. Osborne said. “We can surely find some- 
thing for you to do. There are still opportunities, 
everything is not so crowded. For a year or so we 
shall need all the really valuable help we can get. 
Don’t you suppose the colonel will require a private 
secretary?” to Lady Ashton. “I might like one 
myself, though perhaps my correspondence will not 
be quite so onerous.” 

Alice blushed at the glance directed to her. 

“Are you really in earnest?” asked Gifford, his 
eyes lighting. 

“Why, yes, I am in earnest now,” returned Os- 
borne, smiling, “though I spoke in the advisory tone 
elder men are given to using. Why should you not, 
if you have no especial ‘call’ here? You will not be 
giving up any particular home ties. And unless you 
have thought out your future on some favorite 
line ” 

He paused and glanced at his prospective brother- 
in-law. Gifford, like Alice, had the divine gift of 
looking younger than he was. Just now he was thin 
and pale from his summer’s confinement, with only an 
hour or two leisure in the day. 

“I don’t know that I have any especial plan or 
aim,” said the young fellow, in a rather disconsolate 
tone. 


THE FLIGHT OF A BIRD LING. 183 

“Then take up the great American one of making 
money. We may laugh about it and scout it, but 
money does stand for most of the good things of life. 
Still, I should be very miserable if I thought I had to 
devote all my days to it. I sometimes look at those 
keen, grasping old men, and wonder how they will 
ever be resigned to die and ‘leave their riches for 
others.’ No, I want some real comfort and pleasure 
out of life, therefore I mean to double my joys,” 
laughingly. 

Alice looked up with a happy smile. Then she let 
her eyes stray over to her brother. 

“I wish you would. Gif,” she said persuasively. 
“Dell is coming out, and Tessy Murray has half 
promised.’’ 

“She holds out the girls as the great attraction — or 
is it reward? Well we have no superabundance of 
girls in our vicinity, it is true,’’ rejoined Osborne. 

Gifford kept revolving the idea in his mind. “I 
have half a mind to try, Dell,’’ he said to her, later on 
in the evening. “It would seem clean and clear 
away from all associations. Not that I am too 
cowardly to stay here and redeem myself, but now 
and then I have been confronted with an old acquain- 
tance — I wonder why no one is quite willing to let 
you walk by yourself, in a better way! They all want 
to pull you back. It is so easy to slip into dangerous 
paths.’’ 

“Oh, Gifford!” Dell caught his arm in half 
affright. 

“I think you need not really fear for me,” he 
replied, with a touch of solemnity in his tone. “I’ve 
been through two or three temptations this summer. 
The worst is the old friends with whom you have 


184 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

wasted your money. They are jolly and generous; 
at least, that is the way it appears on the surface. 
Well, they are generous sometimes. But you so soon 
fall into other hands. I am so ashamed of that old 
life that I can’t bear to see anyone connected with it. 
Of course the worst was in New York. Len came to 
me one day with quite a good offer from a New York 
house. It is queer how things assail you. The son 
of one of the partners in this house was one of the 
compeers of that worst part of the worst year. He 
had plenty of money, and delighted in orgies. You 
cannot give them any other name. And he was a nice, 
attractive young fellow, too. Len was a little vexed 
at first.” 

“Oh, didn’t you tell him?” cried Dell, who did not 
want Gifford blamed unjustly. 

“Yes, I did. He was very good about it. Leonard 
will make a fine man. Yet his college life wasn’t any 
more promising than that of many others, and he 
always was spoiled by an adoring family. But I think 
he never was tempted by drink.” 

Dell gave a little shudder. 

“It zs a horrible vice. I shall always look back 
with shame to those two years. And the awful irre- 
sponsibility it brings about when one’s mind is so 
debased that it cannot judge between a matter of mer- 
riment and a great wrong. But Len thought me 
rather weak; though he saw going there to New York 
might lead to inquiries about me which would not be 
pleasant. I should run against a good many old 
friends in the city. Dell ” 

There was such a long pause that Lyndell looked up 
inquiringly. 

“Dell, there are some things that puzzle me very 


THE FLIGHT OF A BIRD LING. 185 

much.” His voice dropped to a low key, but the 
others were so far away there was no danger of being 
overheard. “I’ve been trying since last winter, when 
the issues of life and death were set so plainly before 
me, to cling to the greater strength promised, to be 
strong in that. And I feel all my wretched, halting 
weakness. Here is Len, not really trying to live up 
to any religious standard ; a chap who used to get in 
dreadful tempers and almost sweep everybody off the 
board; who did pretty much as he liked, whether other 
people liked it or not ; developing into a fine, strong 
man. Heaven knows he was in enough temptation 
last winter, but no one ever spoke of his drinking. In 
fact, he is praised on every hand as one of the rising 
young men. Where does he get his strength to walk 
so serenely through dangers? I was in one Sunday, 
when he was full of a knotty point he was to eluci- 
date the next day, and he told me that he worked 
until midnight, but he succeeded. He was not 
troubled about using the Lord’s day for his work. 
What gives him the strength and the certainty promised 
to — promised elsewhere? 

Dell drew a long breath. How many times she had 
puzzled over this mystery. 

‘‘I think Leonard has been very much in earnest at 
times about the higher living. He was ill so long, 
you know, and had many serious thoughts. He has 

not come to the real truth and sincerity at all times 

Oh, have any of us?” she cried suddenly. 

“But the strength? I want the strength to feel sure. 
I want a certainty.” 

“And you remember the warning — ‘Let him that 
thinketh he standeth take heed’? I suppose there is 
strength enough given us to stand on the place where 


iS6 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

God wants us to do our work. But we must reach out 
and take hold of it. And sometimes, when we are 
looking at other people, I wonder if the other warning, 
or command, will not apply — ‘ What is that to thee? 
follow thou me.’ ” 

Gifford caught both her hands. She had grown very 
dear to him this last year. 

“If I had you always.” The pressure was intense, 
but the meaning was not definite, even to himself. 
“You have the right strength, I do believe. Or is it 
partly a Sherburne gift? Sometimes I think there is 
a good deal in heredity. And with poor father — 
mamma always had her way about everything, and he 
took the working end, the confinement and anxiety. 
He always gave in when there was a disputed point. 
But he had no vices, and I begin to think now very 
few faults. And Alice is gentle and yielding. Do 
you know, I am very glad to have my new brother-in- 
law one of the strong, large-hearted men! And he 
makes just the same business of love.” 

Dell was trying to release her hands. 

“I hate to go so far, because I shall not see you. 
I save up things to talk over with you. When I make 
any special effort I always think that you will approve, 
and I do try to keep from things I know you would 
consider wrong.” 

“Oh, Gifford!” she cried eagerly; “there is where 
you make a mistake. We are not strong enough for 
each other. Only God is strong enough for that. 
And since he has promised his grace shall be sufficient, 
we have no right to fall back upon heredity or any- 
thing that keeps us from trusting in him. We do not 
think as much of the escape as we do of the tempta- 
tion, I am afraid.” 


THE FLIGHT OF A BIRDLIHG. 187 

“You will write to me? Oh, I wonder if I would 
like to be so far away ? Even Len has been a great 
comfort. To miss you out of my life ” 

‘ ‘You must learn to stand alone. But you will have 
Alice and Lady Ashton ; and the colonel is delightful.” 

“You would be sure to come out sometime?” he 
said lingeringly. 

Alice called to her, and she took Gifford over into 
the circle. They had been very dear friends, and 
she felt that he did not realize he was on the verge of 
something deeper than friendship. He did lack self- 
reliance, or that peculiar conscientiousness that will 
not let go of the right through any stress. Would 
not an entire change be beneficial to him? 

“I am so glad you spoke of it,” she said to Mr. 
Osborne. “If you could find some opening for 
him!” 

“I shall be sure to, if you all desire it. It will 
make Alice happier to have someone of her very 
own. Though I might be jealous oi youd' 

They both laughed gayly. 


CHAPTER XII. 


AFTER THE WEDDING BELLS. 

S HERBURNE HOU SE was put in bridal array dur- 
ing the first week of October. The weather was 
magnificent, and though roses were gone except a few 
beds of the cultivated kind, there was a profusion of 
bloom and loveliness. Aunt Aurelia had decided it, 
and given a great pleasure to Dell. It would be one 
of the delightful remembrances of the place as the 
years went on. 

The only drawback to unalloyed happiness was 
Mrs. Lepage. She stipulated at first for a very quiet 
wedding, with only the immediate relatives. 

“There will be no dancing or merry-making, you 
need not fear,” returned Aunt Aurelia, with some of 
her old sharpness. “But we shall ask in the lifelong 
friends and neighbors. A daytime wedding is not 
usually a very gay one.” 

So she gave her orders, and Aunt Jue carried them 
out. 

The next bone of contention was Gifford. 

“I don’t know why I should be deprived of all my 
children because we are poor,” Mrs. Lepage flung out 
angrily. 

“But if Gifford can do better there?” 

“He can do well enough in Washington. I have 
made two applications for a government clerkship. 
His father had a great many friends, and Mr. Long- 

188 


AFTER THE WEDDING BELLS. 


189 


worth’s influence is worth a good deal to a young man 
starting in life. Of course His father meant him to 
have a profession, and Leonard would help there. 
Gifford ought to pay some regard to his father’s 
wishes. And I need one son to apply to in an 
emergency. It is very hard.” 

And though Mrs. Lepage was not much given to 
sentiment, she shed tears very easily nowadays. 

“It is too bad to make Alice so unhappy,” Aunt 
Jue said, half provoked. “If she were not so very 
much in love it would be most disheartening for her. 
Mr. Osborne will have a poor opinion of his mother- 
in-law.” 

On the whole it rather amused Dell. She had 
quite outgrown her fear of Aunt Lepage. The incon- 
sequence and unreasonableness seemed childish. 

Gifford began to be more and more won by his 
brother-in-law. And though the past was buried 
sacredly in a few hearts, he could not feel quite the 
same. The sin and shame were too near by. 

Lady Ashton was very motherly to him, with the 
sort of appreciation quite lacking in his own mother. 
The frivolities of the world had not taken possession 
of her, though she had been among them many 
years. 

Leonard came down; he often did now for a night 
or a day. And his advice settled it. 

“I’d go for a year or two. Gif,” he said. “It will 
be a splendid thing for your health to have some 
vigorous out-of-door life. And mentally it will give 
you another start. You are not up to your years. 
Some fellows don’t mature until five-and-twenty or 
so. You will stand a better chance if you want to 
come back East and embark in some business.” 


190 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

They had not been quite sure of Ethel, but the 
vessel came in on time, and she and Mr. Longworth 
would be down to spend the night. 

Other friends and relatives arrived, and Sherburne 
House seemed overflowing with cordiality. 

The morning was all one could desire. Milly 
came over and took possession of the bride-elect in 
such a quiet, decisive fashion that even Ethel could 
not presume. She was quite full of her own glories 
and plans for the winter. 

“You certainly have been a very foolish girl,” com- 
mented Ethel. “But it is too late now to repent. 
Mr. Osborne is a gentleman — we must say that for 
him — and well connected. If he should suceed in 
his business ventures, it may not be so bad. But 
you really have grown better looking, absolutely pretty. 
I had an idea you would fade early. Some very fair 
women do. But oh, what you will miss this winter! 
I’ve made some splendid new friends. Mamma is 
dreadfully disappointed that you did not keep to 
your engagement.” 

Alice colored, but she would not descend to ex- 
planations. Ethel colored, too, under all her high- 
bred composure. During her few days in London 
she had heard of a rather wild escapade Mr. Phillips 
had been through with a young and pretty actress, 
and had begun to lose faith in him. 

Alice came down in her soft white silk wedding 
gown and veil. Florence was her maid of honor. 
Fanny, Dell, and Millicent, Gifford, Leonard, and 
Bertram Carew made a half circle, and the other rela- 
tives stood around. The servants clustered on the 
porch and in the hall, delighted to have so important 
an event occur at Sherburne House. 


AFTER THE WEDDING BELLS. 191 

“An’ next it will be Miss Dell’s turn; don’t be fer- 
gittin’ that,” said old Dinah. 

Lizzy Jackson was up to the “big house.” Indeed, 
everybody was glad to come to do ever so little, just 
for a look at the bride. 

“Oh, missy! I hope you’ll be just as happy when 
your time comes. We’re all wishin’ you the best of 
good luck in our hearts, and a splendid, handsome hus- 
band. And no going away from Sherburne House.” 

Her significant glance fell on Leonard, and Dell 
blushed scarlet. Was the old plan to follow her 
always? 

Mr. Beaumanoir gave his niece away in a tender, ’ 
reverent fashion, and her new husband held her to 
his heart a moment before he kissed her. And then 
came the congratulations, sweet, heartfelt, joyous; 
and some with the old-fashioned quaintness they had 
used with the bride at Sherburne House twenty-five 
and thirty years ago. 

“It was so beautiful!” said Dell, with a tremble in 
her voice. “I shall always like to remember it, Alice. 
You seem to have hallowed the place.” 

“And that you made it possible. Oh, Dell! you 
will always be like a dear sister to me.’’ 

The great dining room was in grand array, with 
its polished silver that had served brides a century or 
two before. Alice cut the cake, her husband responded 
to the toasts for her, there was much good-fellowship 
and neighborly heartiness. Then the bride slipped 
away with Dell and Milly and donned her pretty soft 
gray dress and hat, and a procession of carriages 
escorted them to the station ; their send-off the exu- 
berant joy of the negroes who lined the avenue, wild 
with delight. 


192 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE 


A number of the guests were going to Washington 
with the bridal party, Dr. Carew among them. He 
came over to say good-by to Lyndell. 

“Tessy Murray should have been here,” he said. 
“How was it? Didn't you ask her?” 

“Yes. It was Alice’s only disappointment.” 

“I thought she would surely come. Have you 
heard Con is in India, and is going to Japan? He 
has been doing some very good newspaper work, I 
believe. I have wondered what Con would make of 
himself. He took some terms at chemistry in Ger- 
many. Why, I saw Tessy — not a fortnight ago.” 

He glanced at Dell in an unconscious fashion, as if 
he was puzzling over something. 

Tessy’s defection was a mystery to Lyndell. At 
almost the last moment a beautiful gift had come for 
Alice and a letter of regrets, not clearly stating the 
reason, but holding out the hope that before many 
months she would see Alice in her new home. Every- 
body was disappointed, even Aunt Aurelia. 

“Milly has taken you into her confidence, I heard,” 
and Bertram smiled with a fine ingenuousness, colored 
a little, too, with a kind of pride. 

“Oh!” Dell exclaimed. “It is so wonderful, so 
delightful. I can hardly make it seem true. And 
the poems were so touching, so beautiful. I am all 
eagerness to see the story.” 

Her face was alight with intensity. He studied it 
with an expression that startled her and made her 
turn away. 

“I am so glad,” he added, after a momentary 
embarrassment. “You two are so dear to each other. 
You will be more so now that the others are gone.” 

Leonard came around and joined in the farewells. 


AFTER THE WEDDING BELLS. 193 

Then he took Dell’s arm, as if to guide her. There 
was a curiously satisfied look in his face. It was the 
last glimpse Bertram had of her. 

“It was a really beautiful wedding. It made Sher- 
burne House seem quite like old times. Not that I 
remember weddings, exactly,” and Leonard laughed 
gayly. “Though Aunt Julia was married in my time, 
and a cousin who used to visit a good deal here, 
and who now lives in Baltimore. But there used 
to be other merry-makings ” 

He handed her into the carriage. Milly was going 
back with them, Mrs. Lepage and Ethel to Beauma- 
noir. There were guests still at Sherburne House, 
and the air of festivity lingered. The colored contin- 
gent were eagerly disporting themselves in gala cos- 
tume, making merry at the different cabins over 
wedding cake and various luxuries from the great 
house. 

They missed Alice very much, and Lady Ashton, 
who had become almost a member of the family. 
She sent a note from Washington just as they were 
starting for their journey across the continent; and 
from various stations as they passed through. Alice’s 
first letter came from her new home. It was so much 
more beautiful than she had expected that she seemed 
wildly enthusiastic. The colonel was delighted to get 
his wife back, and gave the bride the warmest of wel- 
comes. “I foresee,” wrote Alice, “that I shall be 
completely spoiled. This will finish what Sherburne 
House began. More than ever I appreciate all your 
love and goodness to Gifford and myself, and dear 
papa.” 

It had all been worth doing. Was it not the real 
work of life; the thing God had set before her? 


194 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


And now Dell had time to look the future in the 
face. Why should it have such a dreary aspect? The 
long winter — had winters or summers ever been long 
before? There would be letters and letters. There 
might even be some pleasures. Ethel had been 
extremely cordial. 

“Now that the others are out of the way, you must 
come up and have your turn,” she had said in her most 
gracious manner. The heiress of Sherburne House 
was not to be despised. Fanny Beaumanoir had 
another year in school, and it would be a long while 
before beautiful Florence could be introduced. Dell 
was certainly fine-looking. 

“And I do suppose,” she said to her mother, “that 
the little tiff between her and Leonard has about blown 
over. I noticed that he was very devoted, and paid 
her a certain respect that is very flattering to a girl. 
Leonard’s wife can take a fine position in society. 
And with a few judicious touches here and there, Dell 
can be made an attractive woman. If she only had a 
little more suavity!” 

“Of course her fortune will always count. It does 
seem as if grandfather might have divided it a little 
more evenly.” 

“It is partly the turn of events,” and Ethel’s air 
was one of superior wisdom. “No one supposed that 
old waste land would be worth so much. The devel- 
opment of Southern industries has made a market for 
both coal and iron, and the new railroad adds to its 
value. I wouldn’t mind if Dell had grown sentimen- 
tal over Gifford.” 

“I never thought of that!” said the mother, full of 
regret over wasted opportunities. “And I am sure 
I.^on^rd could make his fortune and standing without 


AFTER THE WEDDING BELLS. 195 

all that aid. But money often goes to those who do 
not need it.” 

If Dell had known that she was being grandly 
avenged! But she had outgrown her old childish 
desires in her real pity for the misfortunes of the 
Lepage family. That Alice was happy gave her an 
intense satisfaction. That Gifford would be under 
excellent influences for the next few years, lifted a 
great burden from her heart. Surely Ethel had what 
she most desired. 

She was fain to be so busy that she could not really 
think of the future, except to consider what she would 
do when she was truly mistress here. She was 
beginning to understand what she would like to do. 
Something large and gracious. She would like to live 
in a wider sphere ; to gather people about her who 
were even now stirring the great world of thought. 
If she had nothing to give them, they would have much 
to give her. She could listen and be interested ; she 
might learn by degrees ; she might even take up some 
work, if it was not writing books. 

Why, even Tessy Murray had this wider outlook! 
Dr. Carew had brought it into her life. Strange, now 
that she thought of it, the experiences had not roused 
Tessy to any unrest. She could see her as she had 
sat beside Aunt Aurelia making lace, her soft eyes 
alight with interest, as if lace-making were the great 
thing in the world. Lyndell felt impatient. 

Con would be coming home by and by, full of 
knowledges, taking a part in the world’s work. Mr. 
Murray was proud of him; he had a right to be. And 
James had gained a prize for some beautiful archi- 
tectural drawings. Murray & Cranston’s houses were 
spoken of as quite superior, and people came to 


196 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

consult with them; to engage them, if it was possible. 
There was a stir and activity that set all the pulses 
athrill. 

But at Sherburne House the lines were fixed. She 
had outgrown them, and yet she must try to go on 
living in the narrow paths some other hands had laid. 
Her strong nature rebelled. 

Sometime Millicent would go away again ; out in 
that wide, lovely experience that touched other lives, 
roused them, made them glad with great, uplifting 
joy. She could speak to them with tongue and pen, 
Dr. Carew could raise and save wearied bodies and 
despairing souls. For with all his knowledge he had 
not cast aside the simple faith of his father ; he still 
believed it was God’s world, and that he was put in 
it to do the work God had appointed. To live in 
nearness to such a grand, tender soul, to help build 
up the pure and true by wise counsel and unwearied 
exertion, would be an intense satisfaction because the 
inmost desire went gladly to the fulfillment of every 
purpose. 

“I am meanly, selfishly jealous that this lovely work 
and reward should come to her,” Lyndell Sherburne 
said to herself. ‘‘And she was the first one at Sher- 
burne House who held out a kindly hand to me. I 
am base beyond comparison.” 

Only yesterday Millicent had been over and begged 
her to drive with her in the delicious autumn sun- 
shine. Dell had made letters an excuse; had she 
not been a little curt as well? 

She rose suddenly and changed her gown, put on 
her hat, and went downstairs. Aunt Julia was lying 
on the sofa, and there was a smell of aromatic vinegar. 

‘‘Oh, Aunt Jue! what is the matter.” 


AFTER THE WEDDING BELLS. 


197 


Mrs. Stanwood raised herself and gave a tremulous 
half laugh. 

‘ ‘A dreadful headache, for one thing. I haven’t felt 
really well for several days, a little feverish and upset. 
I have been thinking the doctor would come in, and 
now have sent Julius for him. Don’t stay in, my 
dear, fori am going up to bed.” 

“But I might do something ” 

“There is nothing to do, and quiet will be best. If 
you liked to get the boys and take them a little drive ! 
I have been promising to. And you might stop at 
Beaumanoir.” 

“I was going over to see Milly.” 

“Well, do not alarm them. I shall be about again 
in a day or two.” 

Dell stooped and kissed her. Then she wet the 
bit of linen again and laid it back on the fevered brow. 
Aunt Julia was so seldom ill. 

The sunshine and the rich, drowsy air were full of 
fragrances. Vines were throwing out long crimson 
arms, as if clinging to the trees in a fervent embrace. 
The tawny husks of the bitter-sweet were showing 
shining scarlet seeds, and the great field of sumac 
was a reddish brown with flaming crimson leaves. 
The beauty moved her. 

Millicent sat out under a great maple with some 
sewing in her hand. Nora was playing and laughing 
at the antics of a little black handmaiden. Dell 
looked over. The mother was embroidering a soft red 
dress for the little one. She glanced up and smiled. 

“I have come to return your invitation ! ” exclaimed 
Dell. “Will you accept and take Nora? I am to 
gather up Win and Floyd, and we will have a driving 
party.” 


198 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

“With pleasure,” returned Millicent. “I am so 
glad to see you. Papa was going over. Have you 
had letters?” 

“Julius seldom goes until the late mail.” 

“Papa brought in ours half an hour ago. Poor 
Cousin Garrick is dead. She has been poorly some 
weeks, and there was no hope of her recovery. 
How dreadful it will be for poor Miss Eliza! They 
were so disappointed about not coming to the 
weddings.” 

Dell was a little awe-stricken. To go out of life in 
this glowing, inspiriting weather! 

Millicent was ready in a few moments, and Nora 
began to chatter gayly with Dell, who always found 
the way to children’s hearts. 

“I wonder if Aunt Jue will go? It wouldn’t be 
wise for Aunt Aurelia to take the journey. She has 
hardly recovered from the other excitements.” 

“Aunt Julia is not at all well. And she may be 
quite ill before it is over. Julius went for Dr. Carew.” 

“I thought she looked poorly yesterday, but she 
would not admit it.” 

Dell had not noted. She had been so occupied 
with her own thoughts. And now, like a moment’s 
flash, a fear came to her. Aunt Julia had been so 
much to them all! Had she not given up a good 
deal to keep the wheels of Sherburne House running 
smoothly? Was it not someone’s place to consider 
her? 

And she had said there was so little for her at Sher- 
burne House. She wanted to get away and be doing 
some of the great things of the world. 

The children had started homeward, dismissed 
earlier than usual for some cause. They picked 


AFTER THE WEDDING BELLS. 199 

them up, and for the next hour there was enough to 
do answering questions. 

She drove Milly home with her. Dr. Carew was 
just going away. 

“Oh, what is it?” cried Dell, stretching out her 
hand. 

“Nothing to be alarmed about. A little cold and 
a bit of fever. She must stay in bed two or three 
days. So poor Miss Garrick has gone; I didn’t think 
she would live through the autumn. And what the 
lonely one will do!” 

Mr. Beaumanoir came and lifted the children out. 

Little Nora clasped her arm about his neck and 
laughed gleefully. 

“We have been talking about a little journey. 
Aunt Aurelia thinks we ought to go in as strong a 
force as possible, and I proposed to take you and 
Dell. I should feel safer about Julia if your mother 
were within call. But Miss Neale would come up 
any time.” 

They had entered the old sitting room. Aunt 
Aurelia glanced up thoughtfully. 

“You will have to go early to-morrow morning,” she 
said. “Lyndell, you must be our representative. I 
am very sorry about Julia. But there really is no 
heed of Laura staying. They are out of the range of 
most of the relatives, and there have been but two of 
them for so long. Poor Eliza!” 

Miss Aurelia gave a little sigh, and thanks for her 
own surroundings. 

“It will be a great comfort to see you,” she added, 
a moment later. 

Dell had felt quite disinclined for the melancholy 
errand. But the words “a great comfort” struck 


200 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


home to her heart; and Aunt Aurelia thought of 
comforting others. It had not always been so. A 
perception of possible duties mingled with latent good, 
with kindliness, in the out-of-the-way corners, touched 
with a generous sense of higher love and accomplish- 
ment, swept over her. If she wanted to go out to any 
great work that was far off, almost impossible, could 
she not begin with the nearby things, homely little 
details of everyday life? 

“Yes,” said Millicent. “We will plan everything 
to-night. Perhaps Dell had better come home with 
us.” 

“No,” returned Dell. “I shall be anxious about 
Aunt Julia.” She kissed Millicent and little Nora, 
and Aunt Aurelia said she would be sent over in the 
morning. 

But Miss Sherburne walked out with Mr. Beau- 
manoir, and added softly, standing on the porch: 

“You will see that all is right with them. They 
have been straitened a good deal, I know.” 

Aunt Julia’s paroxysm of headache was over, but 
she had quite a rise of fever. 

“Still, I have a feeling that it will not be much. I 
am so rarely ill or even tired out. There has been a 
good deal to do, and the fall cleaning, to say nothing 
of the changes in clothing, the putting away and get- 
ting out, and the sewing.” 

Lyndell had been occupied with herself and her own 
thoughts since the marriage of Alice Lepage — what 
her life might be under favoring circumstances; what 
it was not, in bitter retrospection. She might have 
helped with this other burden. 

But if she had not the interest in this common little 
round? Would it not be in a certain sense hypocriti- 


AFTER THE WEDDING BELLS. 


201 


cal to assume it? Above all things she wanted to be 
true, sincere. 

“Aunt Julia,” she began, “we have just had news of 
Miss Maria Garrick's death. At least — our letters 
have not come yet, but Uncle Beaumanoir had his. 
I wonder if I ought to go with them? I’d rather stay 
and help nurse you.” 

“You must go in my place, dear; and I really shall 
not need nursing. Gassy will look after me, and see 
to the children. Poor Maria! They did not think 
she would live through last winter, but she improved 
so much in the spring. And they were able to make 
that nice visit. What does Aunt Aurelia say?” 

“She wishes me to go.” 

“Yes, I thought she would. The young people 
grow up to take our places,” and Aunt Julia gave a 
faint little smile. “Go down to Aunt Aurelia, dear. 
The doctor insists that I shall keep in bed a few days.” 

It seemed strange indeed, and but for the children 
would have been a rather solitary supper. It was set 
on the small found table, and suggested breakfasts and 
teas on her first coming to Sherburne House. She 
looked over the boys’ lessons afterward, and explained 
some of the hard points; then cuddled them a little 
after they were in bed. 

Aunt Aurelia often went to her room early. Dell 
passed through it to say good-night. 

“Lyndell,” she said, with a gentleness in her voice 
that had come partly from failing strength, and God 
only knew how much of it from earnest endeavor — 
“I have been thinking— there won’t be much time in 
the morning, so I had better say it now. I want you 
to persuade Gousin Eliza to come home with you. 
I’ve been writing a note, but perhaps you can put it 


202 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


in better shape ; words seem more earnest and full of 
meaning when they are spoken. And you have a way 
— it will be too lonely for her there, and she’s not as 
young as forty years ago. Try!” 

Could she have dreamed a few years ago of Aunt 
Aurelia asking a favor, giving her a charge? 

She went to her own room, that she had made 
beautiful with the desires and needs of womanhood. 
There lay her book with the marker in it. She was 
reading here yesterday when Millicent came, and had 
somehow lost the thread of the abstruse theories. It 
was one of the books young Dr. Carew admired. Did 
it matter so much, after all, to one’s daily life what 
had gone on ages ago? The question at last would be 
one's share in it, the deeds of the sixty or seventy 
years — whether one had added any beauty and truth 
and ease for their fellow-creatures of to-day? Some- 
thing swept imperiously across her mind: “The night 
cometh in which no man can work.” And was not 
work everything? not merely one grand, high thing? 

She took some other reading to-night, and after all, 
went to bed early. 

The journey was of considerable length by train. 
The rough, neglected country recalled to Dell the 
first part of the long-ago journey, when she had tried 
to escape from Sherburne House. They went through 
long stretches of woods, and, emerging, saw the moun- 
tain ranges in the distance. Then a few houses that 
had been centers of lovely living, no doubt, now neg- 
lected, deserted, or left to dilapidation, negroes, and 
poor whites. Several times they had planned to go to 
the cousins, but something had interfered. Milly had 
made one visit since her widowhood. Dell felt a little 
conscience-smitten. How full and rich her life had 


AFTER THE WEDDING BELLS. 


203 


been! Was she to put the treasures in a large draw- 
ing room and open it only on grand occasions to the 
select few who could understand the mysteries? Was 
not that what she was longing to do? 

Mr. and Mrs. Beaumanoir talked of the old days 
when Cousin Maria had been quite a beauty and a 
belle; the marriage of their brother, that had been their 
pride and disappointment as well. His wife was dead, 
he was some sort of under-secretary in a consulship 
abroad, and his daughter had a studio, and was a 
rather advanced woman, past her youth. Twice a 
year they had a brief note from him. 

“I do not see how brothers and sisters can forget 
each other so,” said Millicent, with a kind of indig- 
nant surprise. 

‘ ‘ They did not forget. I suppose the early life has 
so faded from his memory that it is like a vague dream. 
He would feel wonderfully strange in it.” 

“But to think of Leonard or Ned caring so little 
whether one was dead or alive!” 

Millicent’s face flushed at the thought of alienation. 

“We have lived closer together,” and her father 
smiled. “Their sister-in-law was fascinated with the 
air of courts, and became most un-American. A 
man’s wife often does a good deal toward shaping his 
character. There are more of you, and I hope family 
ties will count for something nearer and dearer.” 

From the train they changed to the stage. Their 
hour’s ride was well-nigh martyrdom, through the 
rough country. At the “Corners,” there was a 
shabby sort of old-time tavern, with a few men sitting 
out on a sunny bench, playing cards, a broken horse 
trough, and general dilapidation. A rickety coach 
stood there, and the old drivk dismounted, respect- 


204 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


fully touched his high hat — of twenty years* ago 
fashion — with a broad black band. The crown-edge 
was worn gray with frequent brushings. 

He presented “Mis’ Liza’s” compliments in a 
solemn manner, and they lost nothing by the elabo- 
ration. Then they were obsequiously assisted into 
the faded, moth-eaten equipage. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


IN THE SHADE. 

dear! another drive!” cried Dell, aghast. 
\J “One wouldn’t desire to make such journeys 
very often.” 

Mrs. Beaumanoir looked quite weary. Millicent 
was pale, and gave a soft sigh. 

“I think it is about a mile.” 

“Yes, sah! a mile furder. But we's got a bettah 
road. An’ I’ll drive up.” 

He chirruped to the horses and snapped the lash 
beside them with a great flourish. They were old, 
but looked well fed. 

The road was better and more picturesque. It 
crossed a small stream, but the planks rattled danger- 
ously. Past a bit of pine wood they came in sight of 
the house, with its untidy negro cabins scattered 
about, and a few fields of stacked corn, to which the 
chickens were helping themselves freely. Miss Eliza 
had always boasted that the old house would last 
their time out, but one end had fallen down, the ruin 
partly covered by some close-branching hemlocks. 

The “new part” was barely habitable. The fluted 
porch columns, almost black with weather stains, were 
patched with pieces of tin, and propped up around 
the bottom. It was a mystery how the old house 
held together. 

Miss Eliza received them in the hall, large and 


205 


2o6 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


bare, with a great fireplace at one side. But the 
sitting room had a habitable look, although Miss 
Eliza had reverently removed the purely ornamental 
articles, and covered the big looking-glass with a 
square of linen. 

“We sent word to all the relatives, but it is so far 
for most of them to come!” and Miss Eliza sighed. 
“It was very good of you. We felt we might reason 
ably expect someone from Sherburne. The services 
are to be to-morrow morning. Poor Maria has been 
a great sufferer for the last three winters. She quite 
recovered in the summer, and the doctor thought 
last summer’s jaunt might add years to her life. But 
in the heavy storm of two weeks ago the roof in our 
room gave out, and the exposure was too much, in 
the middle of the night. I tried to save her all I 
could, and made a fire down here. We took it for a 
sick room then, but she didn’t need it long, poor 
dear! And now you must have some dinner.” 

Adjoining was a dining room. Years ago a par- 
tition had been run across it when the old kitchen 
gave out. During the war it had been hard times 
with them. Then and since they had disposed of 
family silver and furniture for their pressing needs, 
and made no special moan. There was no one to 
care for relics. They had been brave and kept to 
the old traditions of gentility. Some of the negroes 
had remained and worked the place in their thriftless 
fashion, eking out a living for themselves and their 
inexpensive mistresses. 

Mr. Beaumanoir and the girls took a walk about 
the estate afterward. 

“Aunt Aurelia wouldn’t have let things go in this 
manner,” declared Dell. “Yet you can’t imagine 


IN THE SHADE. 207 

their being so very poor.” The young girl looked 
puzzled. 

‘‘There was no real lack of money at Sherburne 
House. Your own grandfather had a very good 
income, which was divided among his living children 
at his death. But Aunt Aurelia has been an excel- 
lent manager. Still, she could hardly make bricks 
without straw. We modern people have changed 
the old adage,” and he smiled a little. ‘‘But these 
cousins had no clay, even.” 

Dell gave a deep thanksgiving in her heart. She 
was very glad to be Miss Sherburne’s messenger. 
How had these two women kept serene and uncom- 
plaining, satisfied with the old things? 

‘‘I don’t see how anyone could live in this manner.” 
Dell spoke protestingly. She glanced up at Millicent. 
‘‘Can you see what the life is really worth? I don’t 
mean that one should end it.” She shuddered a little 
at her thought — which was not a real thought, after 
all. ‘‘What useful purpose does it subserve? It 
seems such a waste ” 

She uttered this in the unreasoning impatience of 
youth, when only great things seem worth the doing. 

‘‘I do not believe God ever allows any rightful pur- 
pose to go to waste. There was nothing these two 
women could do but keep straight on. Their lives had 
all the flavor of the past, all the distillation of youth 
and hope that had made them fragrant. And the 
homely duties were as much to them as the greater 
things to us. It is a part of the old world, before the 
new restlessness came into it. Whether we can better 
it with our wider ideas ” 

* ‘But you wouldn’t like to live it, Milly?” 

‘‘Yet if it had been my lot? I told you once I 


2o8 a SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

gave thanks, when baby was born, that she was a girl. 
But if my son had been sent to be the heir of Lucken- 
walde, and after all it is a fine patrimony, I must 
have made myself content with many of the trivial 
things of life. I should have known that it was for 
discipline or happiness. And in that case I should 
have prayed for grace to make the best of the limitation. 
I did pray, but there were times when I rebelled.” 

“You, Milly!” Dell glanced at her in amaze. 

“Oh, do you suppose I can see no failures or mis- 
takes? Dell, there were times when I thought it a sin 
to have Emil’s long life wasted. He was broader and 
touched more with the spirit of progress than Walde- 
mar, who kept simply within the old rims ; nor was he 
superficial and light, like Franz. AVe are so different 
over here. I used to think great thoughts for him. I 
had ambitions, and I did try to rouse him to my ideas. 
I do not know just what he would have done in the 
world, but I was resolved to make life quite worth the 
living. And looking back at it now I can see how it 
was filled with unnoticed things that God took care 
of. He made everyone happy. He spent hours with 
Waldemar, being bright and entertaining and never 
impatient. His mother missed him very much, she 
admitted at the last. He did the work that was given 
him to do with a kind of gladness that was like sun- 
shine. I might have improved on the life, I might 
have marred and spoiled it, and God took it out of 
my hands altogether. I can’t tell why. I have 
ceased to ask. And whatever he truly puts in its place 
I shall accept.’’ 

“But if one could tell what was really put in, the 
striving would cease,” the young girl said; yet her 
tone was irresolute. 


IN THE SHADE. 


209 


“Our striving must never cease — for ourselves or 
others. I think we come to know, after a little, when 
any desire is clearly out of our power. The next best 
may be what we think we do not want, but if it is 
God’s idea for us, we shall see it in the working out.” 

She smiled a little. She was so secure and happy. 
The best of all was coming to her. Yes, the very best 
that Dell could imagine. 

“There might have been something better in these 
lives. Perhaps God allowed them to be barren that 
someone might grow richer doing them a service. We 
miss a good many opportunities. There, dear, it is 
chilly, and we must go in.” 

She put her arm around Lyndell’s shoulder, and they 
walked on together. 

Aunt Aurelia certainly had not missed her oppor- 
tunity for another. She, Lyndell, had not thought 
much of that hitherto, she had been so engrossed 
with the aspirations for herself — the things for her 
advancement directly, then the giving to others out 
of the abundance. 

She could not make an opportunity to deliver her 
note quite as she wished until evening. Miss Garrick 
had gone to her room for a few moments. Dell 
tapped at the door. 

“Aunt Aurelia sent you this,” she said, handing 
her the note, “and I was to supplement it by my 
strongest powers of persuasion,” smiling in a kind of 
sympathetic certainty. 

Miss Garrick read it over twice. It was not 
lengthy. It did not offer her a home, as if in benev- 
olent friendliness. It asked her to come and spend 
some months, so that she. Miss Sherburne, could the 
more easily persuade Mrs, Stanwood to take a good 


210 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


long outing this winter with her husband. She had 
been confined too closely, and she wanted some other 
companionship in the house, so that Lyndell might 
feel more free to go and come. 

Miss Garrick’s faded eyes filled with tears. 

“I don’t think you will have to try your powers of 
persuasion twice,” she said awkwardly. “My dear, I 
was thinking how I could stand the winter here alone. 
To be sure, I could have gone visiting; but to be of 

real service to someone You see, I have had 

Maria so long to wait on and nurse. I should feel 
better doing something, or making believe. But for 
you to be beset by two queer old women! You’ll 
want the patience of a saint!” 

Dell smiled again, and wished Aunt Aurelia could 
see the gratification in the old eyes. 

“And so your own aunt is quite poorly; I suppose 
it is hard being away from her husband so much. My 
dear, I shall be glad to come when I get straightened 
out a little. It was so kind in her to think of it. We 
have always so enjoyed our visits at Sherburne House.” 

Then Miss Garrick kissed the blooming cheek, and 
busied herself with her dressing table, so that the 
young girl might not see her tears. 

Dell thought about Aunt Julia afterward. It had 
hardly entered her mind that staying at Sherburne 
House entailed any sacrifice. The children were here 
and going to school, and there were so many friends 
of her youth around. But she had come when Aunt 
Aurelia first met with her accident, and there had been 
the months of Mr. Lepage’s illness, the summer of 
visitors, the weddings. 

“L suppose I ought to take more responsibility,” 
she thought, “At least I must not let another life be 


IN THE SHADE. 


211 


sacrificed altogether. Sherburne House came to me 
whether I would or not, and there is no question about 
the duties.” 

Mr. Beaumanoir had a long talk with Miss Garrick 
after her sister had been laid to rest in the old church- 
yard where the Garricks had slept for generations. 
He had taken a thorough survey of the old house, and 
felt that attempting to repair it would be money 
thrown away. There was no other member of the 
family who would undertake such a thing. There was 
absolutely no sale for property in this section of the 
country. The ground might be hired out, but even 
that would amount to little. He proposed her return 
with them. 

“Gousin Sherburne has kindly asked me to come 
and spend the winter. I can pack the best things 
over in the south room, and Gephas and Polly will 
come and stay. Then in the spring I will consider. 
I’d always counted on ending my days here, but it is 
hard to be alone, so far away from any of your own 
kin. You are all very good to me.” 

Her voice trembled with emotion. 

“But you must not be left here at all,” said Mrs. 
Beaumanoir. “And every day will make the journey 
more difficult. It will be so much better to go back 
with us.” 

“It is so sudden. And there are so many things to 
see to. I hadn’t thought of such a thing, you know.” 

“We must insist upon taking her home,” Mr. Bean,- 
manoir had said to his wife. “She has scraped up 
every penny to pay Maria’s funeral expenses and 
doctor’s bills. There will be nothing for her to live 
on, and she is too proud to accept assistance. Once 
at Sherburne House, she will get over her loss easier. 


212 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


It was very kind of Aunt Aurelia, but I should have 
proffered a home myself." 

There was not much to move to the “best room," 
which at present was secure from leakage. Miss 
Garrick packed a trunk of her choicest belongings 
and some trinkets, articles long ago laid aside by the 
demands of age and changing fashions. Everything 
wearable had been altered and put to the best use. 
Yet Miss Garrick looked quite the lady in her black 
bombazine, that had been redyed, and her mourning 
veil, that had always been folded and put away care- 
fully. Here was poverty at its best estate, Lyndell 
felt, too proud even to admit the mortification. For 
their journey in the summer had broken into their 
little hoard of savings. There was enough, however, 
for present emergencies, and she would begin to 
save up again from the pittances for the land. 

Gephas, old and grizzled, was trustworthy, and had 
served the family faithfully. Polly was his second 
wife, quite a shrewd manager, and she declared: 

“Missus needn’t give herself a speck of trouble. 
She’d find everyting jes de same when she done 
come back in de spring." 

So they took the poor sorrowing soul back with 
them. The death had been rather sudden, it was 
true, but many a night last winter she had expected 
it to happen before dawn, the cough had been so 
distressing. 

And as she looked into the old room with the great 
patch off the ceiling, she sighed, yet she could hardly 
wish her sister back. 

'‘If I stayed I should keep living it over again and 
listening for the cough, imagining that I heard it. 
And the nights of fever were so distressing! Poor 


IN THE SHADE. 213 

dear Maria! In the spring I shall feel as if I was 
coming back to you.” 

That was the moan she made to herself. She tried 
to be outwardly cheerful in return for the kindly 
attentions. Millicent was so lovely, and she had 
known loss and sorrow. 

The first glimpse Dell caught of anyone as she 
reached Sherburne House was Aunt Julia, rather paler 
than usual, and with a tired look about the eyes, as if 
her few days in bed had not quite rested her. 

“Dear Aunt Jue,” she cried, with her arms about 
the elder’s neck, “I am so glad you are improved! 
And now I am going to set myself to work to see that 
you have a little rest and pleasure. I think I have 
been very selfish, taking things so much for granted, 
and quite as if I had no duties at all.” 

She uttered all in a rapid breath, before Aunt 
Aurelia could come to greet her. 

“Where is Cousin Garrick?” 

“Uncle Beaumanoir would keep her until she was 
rested up a bit and Aunt Julia was quite well. Oh, 
Aunt Aurelia, your little letter was enough without 
any word of mine. I think she was really glad, 
though there were so many memories to leave be- 
hind. But oh, the poor old house; it is a perfect 
ruin ! ’ ’ 

“I suspected that it might be. They have been 
faithful to it and to each other. The old people are 
dropping out,” and she gave a soft sigh. 

Sherburne House presented such a delightful 
aspect in its substantial good order that Dell felt she 
wanted to greet every room afresh. She did owe a 
great deal of it to Aunt Aurelia. And she knew that 
in a hundred little ways Miss Sherburne had tried to 


214 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


make amends for the old unfortunate time when they 
had been foes instead of friends. 

Perhaps her week had exercised a new influence 
upon her thoughts. She was not to give up to Milli- 
cent the thing she coveted; it had been hers from the 
beginning. She had a glimpse of a grand and satisfy- 
ing future, a world in which she could live up to the 
fullest desires within her. Perhaps they would not 
be the noblest. She had thought of self and the 
center from which she could radiate telling influences. 
She had desired too much. This was not for her. 
No inspiring voice had said to her, “Come up higher.” 
She had been grasping at shadows to draw herself up. 
She had made a sad, mortifying mistake when she 
thought this portion was for her satisfaction and 
refreshment. She had taken hope when Alice’s half 
desire, half dream had come so unexpectedly to her, 
that this delicious unfolding was on its way to herself. 

Perhaps she was not worthy. She had not the 
requisite gifts. Let her remember this in all humility. 
Her place was here at Sherburne House. 

To give up all the splendid dreams that stirred her 
young womanhood — ah, could she! And then she 
remembered those to whom God had given their 
desires and “sent leanness withal into their souls.’’ 
In the midst of sorrow and retirement, but always 
accepting what came to hand, and doing her duty, 
Millicent’s soul had unfolded and borne its blossom of 
golden fruition. 

Not that she could be a genius of any kind! She 
could only stand near and be lighted by the blessed 
reflection. And she must allow herself to stand near 
and be thus lighted. She could not go off and put it 
out of her life, as one often desires when a thing is 


IN THE SHADE. 


215 


hard to bear. She was very much interested in Milli- 
cent’s new development. And they were here to- 
gether, would be for several years to come. She found 
that Milly had no plans for any immediate change in 
her life. 

She must make herself content at Sherburne House 
with occasional little journeys here and there. The 
happenings were of such an ordinary kind. The 
social life had nothing stirring, inspiriting in it. 
Neighborhood calls and interests, and somehow most 
of the young girls were marrying and going away. 
True, there could be the splendid journey to Cali- 
fornia. She had promised Lady Ashton as well as 
Alice. Why not have that for the next thing, and 
bridge this getting settled to a new atmosphere of 
resolve? 

Aunt Julia, she found, was rather languid. She took 
her to drive and cared for the children, so that they 
should not be such a tax on her. 

“She wants a change to hearten her up,” Dr. 
Carew said one day, when Dell had stopped to talk 
over plans of benevolence with Miss Neale. “You 
see it is getting to be only a half life now. It was her 
duty when she came; there seemed no one else as 
much at liberty, and no one so well equipped. Now 
if Mrs. Lepage could take her place — but that is not 
to be thought of. Go away she must. She wants the 
major’s tenderness and vital interest for a while, and 
she ought to have it.” 

“Aunt Lepage seems to stir up the whole house,’' 
Dell said slowly. “I don’t see how she can be so 
different.” 

“Well, when one’s aims and plans and pleasures 
are altogether with society, with the mere excitement 


2i6 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


and froth, it is just like any other dissipation — dram- 
drinking is about the same for some people.” 

“If she was”— Dell smiled, with a vague sense of the 
comparison — “if she was one of the advanced women, 
always going to conventions and clubs, and full of 
theories, we should say it was the natural outcome of 
abnormal ideas. We should have something we could 
use for a scapegoat. But she despises the modern 
enlightenment.” 

The doctor shrugged his shoulders, and from the 
queer little motion of his mustache you could see the 
curl of his lip. 

“I suppose this is the womanly side,” exclaimed 
Dell, with laughing sarcasm. 

“No, it isn’t the womanly side,” he interrupted 
impatiently. 

“Aunt Lepage is horrified with some of the new 
ideas, and Ethel denounces them as heartily as you 
could wish,” Dell said mischievously. 

“As if it could make much difference what it was, 
while it interfered with and spoiled lives and homes! 
Anything that impairs the home center, sets it in the 
second or third or tenth place, or gives it no place 
at all — anything that makes a cruel discordance, 
whether it is society or ambition, or indifference to 
those around us, is reprehensible. I am glad Alice is 
not starting out in that way. Yes, it ought to be so 
that Mrs. Lepage could come here and minister 
heartily, pleasantly, and ripen her life for her own old 
age. But it isn’t, and she does Aunt Aurelia more 
harm than good. My dear, take such care in the 
shaping of your life that this may not be laid at your 
door. I want the world advanced, but it is not going 
to be advanced by harm, even if the all-wise Ruler does 


IN THE SHADE. 


217 


permit it a while. He can make the wrath of man 
praise him ; we have not gone up so far on the side 
of power.” 

It was all true. Was not a life turned awry that 
was incapable of doing good in its proper sphere? 

“I hope — Miss Garrick won’t wear upon Aunt 
Aurelia,” Dell said, in a slow, rather jerky fashion. 

“They are the last of their families in two different 
lines, and have many memories in common. They 
might be great friends” — the doctor moved his head 
so vaguely that it was hardly a shake. “But, Dell, 
have you not noted that Aunt Aurelia is getting to 
be one of the new women, and it was an old, old 
promise — a new being in Christ Jesus. You see the 
watchword of progress was uttered ages ago. If Miss 
Garrick hasn’t gone on that far, there will need to be 
some sort of fusion. I wonder if Mrs. Stanwood has 
taken it all — this lovely, this divine power of har- 
monizing?” 

The doctor drew on his old driving gloves. There 
was a long journey before him. If it had been shorter 
and pleasanter, he would have liked to pick up this 
tall girl, just as he had in her childhood, and take her 
along. Some time there would be a great question to 
settle: What her life was to be? and now a mistake 
would be fatal. 

“Look well to Aunt Julia,” he said. 

She did not stop at Beaumanoir, though Bertram 
had sent down a new scientific book and a volume 
of poems, sweet, dainty conceits of a young writer, 
whose life, full of work and privations, held a great 
interest for Millicent. She had meant to stay to 
supper, and have a young girl’s good time. 

Was she always thinking of her own good times? 


2i8 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Were most things measured by the degree of pleasure 
they afforded her? She had been trying to make 
people happy around her; her generous nature 
expanded in the plan of such work. But had there 
been much of self-sacrifice in it? Not that purpose- 
less sacrifice amounted to anything; she had the wis- 
dom to see that. And what if she put away a delight 
of her own, to resume next year — some other time — 
and took up a work not as entertaining? 

Aunt Julia was lying on the sofa in the sitting room. 
She looked a little pale and weary, not from physical 
exertion altogether. 

Dell dropped down in the little hollow beside her 
and took the limp hands in hers. 

“I thought you were going to Beaumanoir!” said 
Aunt Julia. 

“Well, I did not.” Dell gave a soft little laugh. 
“I was thinking about some things and came home 
— to talk to you.” 

“Very weighty things, since you look so grave about 
them?” 

“Do I look grave? I want to look fascinating, 
persuasive, convincing.” 

“What new conspiracy are you and Milly hatch- 
ing?” 

Aunt Julia smiled up into the beautiful brown eyes. 

“The doctor thinks you ought to go away.” 

“Oh, it is the doctor, instead of Milly! When a 
doctor is at his wits’ end he prescribes a journey. 
Am I in such a serious case for a trifling attack? I 
feel as well as ever, only a little lazy ; and we are so 
quiet there is plenty of time for rest.” 

“You want a change. This is the doctor’s wisdom. 
I have been too selfish to think of it. But, Aunt 


IN THE SHADE. 


219 


Jue, why can’t you go off somewhere with Uncle 
Dick, or to him, and have a little — well, a little honey- 
moon? You’re not too old for that. I should like 
to think that honeymoons came at intervals through 
one’s life.” 

“They do, my dear,” with an expression of rare 
satisfaction. 

“Then go off and have one.” 

Aunt Julia considered. “A month or so would not 
interfere with anything special, just now. But the 
children — and Cousin Eliza ” 

“Aunt Jue, I think I ought to return some of your 
kindnesses to me. Mere money can’t buy you any- 
thing, so suppose I give myself a little while? I can’t 
oversee, perhaps, and keep all the servants up straight, 
but Cassy can. I might try to do some of the other 
things, looking after Aunt Aurelia’s comfort, and 
being the oil if there should be any friction ; enter- 
taining Miss Garrick when she bored Aunt Aurelia, if 
such a thing should happen. And I could care for the 
children. I ought to begin ’’ 

“My dear!’’ There were tears in Aunt Julia’s 
eyes. 

“You were so good to me,’’ and the brown eyes 
were lustrous with emotion. “I owe you a good deal. 
I ought to make some return. And I ought to adapt 
myself to the needs and demands of Sherburne House. 
I don’t seem to belong to it only in name; and next 
April I shall be set free from guardians and minority 
and girlhood, and be a woman in deed and in truth. 
Oughtn’t I look at it seriously?’’ 

Aunt Julia studied her with a half apprehension. 

“Not that I want to be mistress in any arbitrary 
sense at all. I like the freedom to go and come, but 


220 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


1 am afraid so much going does not conduce to 
stability. I don’t want to make pleasure and self the 
great things of life. And when I think how much of 
the sweetness of your daily living you have given 
up ” 

Her voice had lowered to a loving appreciation and 
a half regret that it should be so. There was a soft 
flush of crimson in her cheek, and her eyes shone 
with a tender gleam. 

“My child, if I gave up some things I had others. 
Of course we couldn’t have Aunt Aurelia left solely 
to nurses in that trying time. I could not have been 
traveling around with Uncle Dick just then, and there 
were two little children to care for, who needed some- 
thing more domestic than a hotel — a home. Aunt 
Aurelia had been the dearest of mothers to me. So 
you see I owed her something. And you need not 
feel worried; I was vejry happy the year you were all 
away. I am not sure but it was a rest and a refresh- 
ing to the soul. Before that I had been about a good 
deal. So you must never think of that as a time of 
trial.” 

Dell kissed the smooth forehead. How many lines 
had come in that of Aunt Lepage! More than the 
few years of seniority warranted. 

“Lyndell, dear,” the voice had a tender entreaty in 
it; “if you think you owe me anything ‘but to love 
one another,’ ” smiling, “may I transfer it to Sher- 
burne House? We do not always pay our debts to the 
one who has stood in our stead, but to someone else 
who needs. I have thought a good deal of the time 
when there would be two mistresses here. It is inevi- 
table. Whether such family wills are just right — but it 
was an old-fashioned way of doing things. It seemed 


m THE SHADE. 


221 


equitable, too, when a daughter had devoted all her 
life and best energies to a place and family, that she 
should not be turned out in her old age to make a new 
home.” 

“Oh, Aunt Jue! we settled all that, and don’t you 
remember she asked the Murrays of her own kindly 
desire? And while she lives everything shall keep on 
in the same fashion, and she shall have the authority. 
I don’t really care for that. I have the freedom 
to ask anybody. And she was very good in that 
matter of Anita Garcia. Oh, you need never feel 
afraid ! ” 

Dell’s voice trembled with emotion. 

“I think you are truly friends. But May and 
December have different qualities, different needs. 
What nature could not do in uniting them, grace has. 
But the grace will be sufficient for all time, and that 
we are apt to forget. My dear, old people are not 
always agreeable. There come frost and snow on the 
blooms of May, but if the soul is warm they soon melt. 
No two people ever agree in all things. It is a good 
way to take the points of concurrence and make much 
of them, and let the others go. The sharpness often 
gets rubbed off them. I can see you have acquired 
a good deal of the wisdom that comes by effort, which 
is one kind of experience.” 

“I do hope I have,” the girl said, with an eager- 
ness that thrilled in every pulse. 

“Some time you may marry.” 

Dell flushed in a protesting way, but Aunt Julia 
gave a meaning smile and went on: 

“We all hope you will. There ought to be a bright, 
joyful, growing household here. And marriage does 
seem the crown of womanhood. What dignity can be 


222 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


higher than wifehood and motherhood in all their 
blessedness? You may not think so now, but I con- 
sider you especially fitted for it. And you must feel 
free to bring here your best love and desires ” 

“Oh, Aunt Jue!” she interrupted, with a scarlet 
face, “I don’t want to think of that.” 

‘‘Do not think of it, my dear, but I believe it is 
every young girl’s dream. It is unnatural at your age 
to deny love, and face the possibility of a single life, 
unless one has a great genius for compensation. The 
genius of most women consists in their capacity for 
loving. You can afford to wait and take nothing 
short of the very best. God is getting it ready for 
you. It would be a great disappointment to Aunt 
Aurelia if there were not some of the old blood in the 
place. We all want you to be very happy.” 

Dell hid her face on the motherly bosom. The old 
wish had not died out of anyone’s mind, she knew 
that. They were all very proud of Leonard. Since 
it was evident Anita Garcia had chosen for herself, 
and wisely at that, the episode had lost its importance 
in everyone’s estimation, and been condoned as an 
ordinary youthful mistake. Even Dr. Carew admitted 
that a splendid voice belonged to the world. 

“And now, dear,’’ Aunt Julia began, after a long 
pause, “suppose I take advantage of your kind proffer 
• — if you think you can get along with two old ladies. 
Aunt Aurelia has spoken of it, and insists this w^as one 
of the reasons for her inviting Cousin Carrick for the 
winter. But I am afraid of giving you too much to 
do. The children ’’ 

“Oh, Aunt Jue! I love the children. You can 
surely trust them to me! So, then,’’ with a touch of 
mirthfulness, “I was not first in the field with my 


IN THE SHADE. 


223 


plan. The doctor suggested it. I cannot honestly 
lay claim to it. But if I should persuade you to go!” 

“My dear, I think your oversight of the children 
would persuade me. It would not be so complete a 
rest to take even Baby Floyd.” 

“Then you will go?” 

“I would like to, I confess. I will consider it 
seriously. I should be back before the holidays, 
and in time for your journey.” 

“Never mind about mine.” 

Aunt Julia kissed her .tenderly. Then the letters 
came in, and it was time for supper. Afterward Dell 
read aloud. 

But when she had gone to her own room she could 
not quite dismiss the old idea from her mind. It 
really seemed as if her husband — she flushed deeply 
at the thought — must be a welcome master in Beau- 
manoir. And if this other vague dream had any sub- 
stance, it would change everything to her. • She would 
be compelled to go away. Someone must come and 
keep the lovely old home from falling to ruin, and she 
shuddered as she thought of the Garrick estate. There 
was no one who would take the pride that Leonard had 
always felt for it. If she were going quite away, 
blessedly happy, she might offer it to her cousin — the 
old childish desire when she was such a miserable 
little stranger within its gates. But would Leonard 
accept it on any terms but one? 

Lyndell Sherburne knew he would not. Even if he 
should marry, and she should be living here alone 
fifteen or twenty years from now, would they come ; 
would a city-bred wife be happy here? She would be 
an old-maid cousin, and the children — his children—* 
would be the heirs, 


224 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


It was not an alluring picture. There was the other 
side. She had persuaded herself less than two years 
ago that she could love him, that it was in some sort 
her duty to marry him. To-day he was a stronger, 
finer man. She always gave thanks that he had gone 
his way so steadily after the esclandre. 

Would she ever find a place to live this high and 
satisfying life of broad opportunity, to build herself 
up in the sweet forgetfulness of a true and noble 
affection, to keep n6ar to lofty counsel, to give it, to 
see the work of her hands, the thoughts of her brain 
radiate to other livng centers? If she could not have 
this, what then? Did it matter so very much? Yes, 
it did now.^ because hope dies hard in youth, but in 
the years to come? Would not the keen longing be 
softened? Was not something else often put in the 
place of the thing one ardently desired, and fitted so 
nicely there was no room for friction? 

Leonard’s wife would have a nice social position 
and influence. Could not she do her good work with 
the consciousness that others were made happy? 

The old motive that she had discarded with a girl’s 
disdain! She could not just now put the lesser, lower 
thing in the place of her high enthusiastic dreams. 
She might relinquish them, but the other was too 
much of a sacrifice for her to consider at present. 

Then she smiled to herself alone in the dark, with 
her face on the pillow. She did not have to live next 
year, and the year after, just this winter. There was 
something else to do, and she could do it in whole- 
some, heartsome earnest. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 

T here were so many things in the way, when 
Aunt Jue came to look at them, that she wavered 
very much. When one has filled a place excellently, 
one almost comes to the conclusion that he or she 
cannot be spared. The rut is so narrow that getting 
out may be a troublesome process. But when Uncle 
Dick came up for a few days the matter was settled 
in a man’s definite fashion. 

Cousin Carrick came over and joined in the general 
conclusion, glad to be of service at once. And Aunt 
Aurelia said to Dell: 

“Suppose you ask Tessy Murray down? We two 
old ladies shall be company for each other, and it 
will be pleasant for you to have someone.” 

“Yes,” returned Dell eagerly; “that will be just 
delightful.’’ 

The children’s nurse had but lately come up from 
the quarters. Her husband had deserted her nearly 
two years before, and her baby had died. She was 
six-and-twenty, and had done dressmaking and gen- 
eral sewing both before and after marriage. Aunt 
Julia had taken a warm interest in her during her mis- 
fortunes, and she had proved not ungrateful. 

But they claimed Dell in a most arbitrary fashion. 
She came every morning to see that they were in 
order, and to “kiss them like mamma.’’ She often 
? 2 § 


226 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

drove them to school, and then did errands, or went 
into town and made some calls. Then in the even- 
ing she must read to them and hear lessons and 
talk about what papa and mamma were doing. Or 
she must write their letters, which, if she had used all 
the materials, would have been volumes. 

“We love you so. Cousin Dell,” was the continual 
refrain; “next best to mamma”; or she was “almost 
as good or almost as pretty as mamma.” 

“Miss Dell jes spile dem chillen,” said Ellen, with 
a dubious shake of the hand. 

She took up the near things, the little things. She 
watched Millicent, in her pretty household ways, sew- 
ing for her little girl, teaching her lessons, taking her 
out, making neighborly calls, listening to sorrows, 
ministering in her sweet fashion to people who told 
over tiresome troubles, things that had happened to 
them years ago, that should have been packed up and 
laid by, but they seemed to keep them fresh as hap- 
penings of yesterday. And all this when she could 
create a wonderful world of brain people, who were 
doing and saying bright, new things. 

“Do you really like it?” she asked one day. “It 
tires me, when Cousin Carrick begins on the in- 
terminable subjects of long ago, the petty little 
round, the tucks they put in their gowns, and the 
years she wore her leghorn hat, and the times she had 
the ribbon dyed over, and the people who came to tea, 
the kinds of cake and all. I want live things, what 
people are doing to-day.” 

“What they did yesterday laps over into to-day. 
And did you ever think our to-day will be old some- 
time? Yet what we did and suffered may be the 
great thing to us then.” 


TO-DA y AND TO-MORRO W. 


227 


“But I want to go on with the world. I hate to 
stand still. And if I had some grand things to give I 
should want to be listened to.” 

Millicent smiled. “The others have a right to 
talk part of the time. And if no one wanted to listen 
to us^ Dell?” 

“But the old things are not always better? And if 
we go back continually, how are we to get on?” 

“Do we need to get on so fast?” 

“But you have the thought to comfort you ” 

then Dell stopped and flushed. 

“No, I am not quite sure of success. Papa is afraid 
I may build too much on it and get disappointed.” 

That was not what Dell meant. She was glad, 
though, that Millicent did not catch the real import; 
it savored almost of impertinence. 

“And it is true that the greater, the more infrequent, 
things of life should not make us dissatisfied with the 
smaller round, since we have to live in it. We could 
not stand the rarefied air of the mountain tops all the 
time. I am not sure but we women are in danger of 
growing too restless.” 

“But if everybody was satisfied, where would the 
improvements come in? And you can’t deny that 
the world grows the richer for them.” 

“When they are true.” 

“We are to ‘prove all things.’ And you must try 
them to prove them!” declared Dell confidently. 

“And hold fast only of them that are ‘good.’ 
Sometimes I think we don’t really inquire about the 
goodness. We hold fast because we like them.” 

“Can you make yourself like anything?” 

“We need not hold fast of things that are not best 
for us.” 


228 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“But how to tell?” A puzzled crease came in the 
girl’s smooth forehead. 

“We are allowed our own way sometimes until we 
see the mistake very clearly. And then we have to 
go back.” 

Dell sighed a little. She had been disappointed in 
Tessy Murray’s letter. They had some friends stay- 
ing in the house, and there was to be a fair for a new 
day nursery just started. Tessy had said: “If you 
could be here!” And then, as she had gone upstairs, 
she saw a letter lying on Millicent’s desk, the pale gray 
business envelope with Dr. Carew’s name printed 
across the end. It was quite a bulky inclosure and 
had a double stamp. 

“Come and play a duet,” Millicent said a moment 
later. “Perhaps Cousin Carrick’s reminiscences have 
bored you too much. And out of some of the incidents 
she related here, and a bit of her sister’s long ago 
experience, I am making a pretty story. Suppose 
twenty, fifty, or a hundred people really care to read 
it? Here is a touching bit of music — German. They 
seem to get a depth of feeling, or else they have a 
tender association for me.” 

The playing quite restored Dell. Mr. Beaumanoir 
came and listened, and when they rose put an arm 
about each. He loved her very much, Dell often 
realized. 

When she took the children home Cousin Eliza sat 
knitting lace, and this time it was Aunt Aurelia who 
was talking. How she had gone to Washington when 
a little girl, with her mother, when Mr. Van Buren 
was president, and Miss Virginia Floyd, a cousin of 
some degree, was a great belle, and the beautiful gown 
she wore. 


TO-DAV AND TO-MORROW. 229 

Dell looked at Cousin Garrick, who merely glanced 
up and nodded. But the young girl gave her a sort 
of scrutinizing smile, and wondered a little. 

What had Millicent seen in this elderly, faded 
woman; with her thin hair combed a little over the 
tips of her ears, making no attempt to hide the fine 
wrinkles in her forehead ; her nose drooping more year 
by year as the roundness and fullness of cheeks and 
lips had gone; the faded eyes with their thin rims and 
sparse lashes; the angular shoulders and flat chest — 
what had she seen to make a story out of? Some long- 
gone prettiness, some incident of life and love, maybe. 
But to be put in a story! It was like the sweetness 
of rose leaves laid away long before, scenting some rare 
old laces. She had whiffs of it sometimes when Aunt 
Aurelia took them out. 

Miss Sherburne looked up and smiled. She had a 
curious youthfulness at this moment, born of old 
remembrances. What a subtle charm they had, if 
they could so rejuvenate one ! 

“Well, did you get your letter?” asked Aunt 
Aurelia. 

“Oh, yes.” Dell’s face lost a touch of brightness. 
“But Tessy cannot come just now. They have a 
house full of company.” 

“Oh, I am sorry for your disappoinmtent 1 ” 

“Nothing has been taken away from me,” said Dell 
archly. “Perhaps we can’t expect things being added 
to all the time.” 

“Tessy!” repeated Cousin Carrick. She had a 
great fashion of doing this, and it often annoyed the 
girl of modern breeding. “Tessy! Do you mean 
that little Murray girl who was here last summer? I 
was so pleased with her. Is her name just Tessy?” 


230 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“Maybe it's Teresa,” returned Dell. “But I never 
heard her called anything else, and she always writes 
it that way.” 

“She is such a blithe, bonny little thing. Poor dear 
Maria said after we went home how delightful it would 
be to have someone like that live with you ! She isn’t 
flippant, nor full of the restless new ideas. We found 
them all stirred up in Baltimore; turning the world 
over, I call it ; finding the old things that somehow had 
been sifted through to the bottom, and convinced they 
had made wonderful discoveries. Do you like it, 
Relie?” 

“The old things are good enough for my time,” 
returned Miss Sherburne. “But maybe if I was 
twenty — when I was twenty I had all the fresh, new 
things of that time.” 

Her voice softened a little and she smiled across to 
Dell. After a moment she added: “You must get 
Milly to come over and help make it up to you.” 

Dell came around to Miss Sherburne and put her 
soft hand on the shoulder that had kept more round- 
ness than Miss Garrick’s. 

“Don’t you think I ought to be making some things 
up to myself? I mustn’t be a baby all my life and 
look for people to come in to amuse me. I must be 
storing up the right kind of things for my old age.” 

“Yes, the restless young people are bad enough, 
but there is the hope they will get done seething and 
settle down. But the restless old people who are 
never content! I think it a good thing we learned to 
knit lace and do embroidery, and fine sewing and darn- 
ing in our young days. We didn’t feel so troubled as 
to how the world was to get on. It’s the Lord’s 
world, and he will take care of it.” 


TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 


231 


“But oughtn’t we help a little?” ventured Dell. 

“We can help our neighbor. And if everyone 
looked out to do the best he could for his neighbor the 
world would get on very well. Why, it would all be 
helped.” 

‘‘The kingdom of heaven is within you.” She 
wanted to bring in the kingdom of the earth as well. 
She wanted so many things in her little world. She 
had started out to make everything beautiful and sweet 
right here at Sherburne House, and she was wearying 
of it when there was no little court about her. 

She sat down on an ottoman and folded her hands 
on Aunt Aurelia’s knee. The autumnal dusk was 
coming on, and golden brown lights quivered and 
faded, then flickered up a moment to fade again 
until they all went out. 

Miss Garrick began about something far off — a dress 
her sister-in-law had sent her from Paris, cut in the 
latest style, but before she had time to make it up 
it had gone quite out of date. 

“We were not going to grand dinners and all that. 
I’ve often thought if she had sent the goods in the 
whole piece; but she always wanted the latest fashion, 
and she never seemed to think what might be suitable 
for her wouldn’t be of much account to us. Your 
clothes want to fit the place you’re in.’’ 

Didn’t one’s life want to fit the place she or he was 
in? The fitness was not for all time. Clothes had to 
be made over; one’s duties were not quite the same 
in one place as another. Really, when you came to 
think of it, was not this the outgrowth that broadened 
life? 

Some little feet came pattering along the hall. 
Dell sprang up. 


2 32 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

“We’re all clean and nice for supper,’’ de- 
clared Floyd, and, at that moment the great bell 
sounded. 

After the lessons and the putting to bed, Dell came 
and read a while, a common, pretty story of every day, 
with no strenuous endeavor as most of her favorite 
heroines had. 

She thought of Tessy Murray, blithe and bonny. 
That just expressed it. Dr. Carew took great com- 
fort in her, too. She remembered one evening when 
he had dropped in and said: 

“I’m tired to death talking and doing, and I have 
to give a lecture at half-past eight to a boys’ club. 
So I have dropped in to rest. Won’t one of you girls 
play something soft and sweet, and not feel hurt if I 
go to sleep?’’ 

Tessy had played some soft old ballads. She had 
a way of playing the air with an accompaniment that 
was exceedingly delightful. Why, it almost seemed 
as if Bertram might — and there were so many oppor- 
tunities to see Tessy! 

Dell dropped on her knees and prayed in the word- 
less manner people do in times of great trial or great 
temptation. The thing that was not for her must be 
put out of her life. The thing that was, a noble and 
tender friendship, must be accepted without any 
heart-burning. It would be easier to go away for a 
long while and get used to seeing some other soul 
happy, with that far, pure insight. It would entail 
less envying and pain than to look on with craving 
bodily eyes. But it would be more courageous to 
live it down once for all. 

Milly came over the next morning with Nora and 
some white aprons she was finishing daintily for 


TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 233 

Fanny. “I was cross and out of sorts yesterday,” 
Dell said, in a rapid breath, with her greeting. 

What a pleasant time they had ! There was the late 
gleam of Indian summer still pervading the land- 
scape. They would linger at intervals for a long 
while. Miss Garrick enjoyed the drive so much, and 
the friendly calls. She never complained of having 
been confined so much with her sister or the narrow- 
ness of her life, but she entered with a certain sub- 
dued joy into this that was so much wider. 

“Really,” she declared one day, “I shall get 
spoiled. But I dare say there will be so much bother 
patching up the old house next summer and getting 
the garden put in half decent shape; and so many 
complaints from the old folks” — all the negroes that 
had remained with her were old — “that I shall hardly 
know how to turn. Keeping busy is a good thing 
when there’s all Egypt to hanker after.” 

Aunt Jue’s letters were merry and delightful. If 
they could spare her, she would like to go down to 
Savannah with the major, and that would lengthen 
her stay to six weeks. But she would be home in 
time for the Christmas preparations. 

Christmas ! That startled Dell. Had the autumn 
gone like that? What was Tessy doing? 

“We must send out our invitations,” said Aunt 
Aurelia. “I don’t know what we will do for young 
people!” 

Mrs. Longworth had begun her new society round, 
but being in mourning she affected literary and 
artistic people mostly, with now and then the scien- 
tific. Th*ey secretly bored her, but it gave tone. 
And when some quite distinguished person said to 
the stately young society woman: “I hardly knew how 


234 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


to find the time to come, but I was sure of meeting 
such delightful people. You must possess some 
occult charm to get them together,” she felt her 
efforts had not been in vain. But they were going 
to have a Christmas entertainment. 

Leonard would come home. Fanny wanted to 
visit a school friend, Ned had an invitation to a 
‘‘house party,” and was engaged for private the- 
atricals. How they did miss Violet and Mr. Amory, 
who would be in St. Petersburg. Alice was happy, 
but wanted Dell to help her enjoy it. Miss Ashton 
was expected in January. 

“Tessy would be sure to come,” Dell, thought. 
Her letters were so full of everything, and everyone 
longed for Dell. But in the midst of the plans she 
received one that puzzled her, with the effort visible 
in every line, and its unusual brevity. 

Some friends of Mr. Murray’s were going to San 
Francisco on the 20th of December, and would take 
her. Con was expected in March, and would bring 
her, or them.^ home. It was a short notice, but could 
not Dell come up to New York and go with her? 
The visit would not be half as nice without her. 

Lyndell was utterly amazed. Nothing certain had 
been planned. They were to talk it over when Tessy 
came to Sherburne. 

‘‘I can’t understand it!” she said to Aunt Aurelia. 
‘‘Unless — it may be some choice friends, and the 
visit in San Francisco ” pausing thoughtfully. 

‘‘But you could join her!” 

Aunt Aurelia’s voice was low, and while it did not 
express dissent was not enthusiastic. 

‘‘And Aunt Jue will not be home until the 21st.” 

‘‘As if we couldn’t be left alone a day. or two!” 


TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 235 

“It isn’t that, altogether.” She would not find 
fault with Tessy’s abruptness, but she felt it keenly. 
“I hate to be hurried off with such a short warning. I 
like to think about a journey and have the little fuss 
of getting ready. No,” quite emphatically, “I shall 
not go. I shall stay and keep the feast with you.” 

Miss Sherburne kissed her tenderly. She had 
resigned herself to the fact of the Murrays always 
being in some respects her rivals. But to be pre- 
ferred “See what Millicent advises,” she said, 

with a voice full of emotion. 

Nothing would have shaken Dell’s resolution after 
that. “I am afraid Milly will not advise,” she re- 
turned half humorously, “and I shall be thrown back 
on my own resources. You may as well take my 
decision now.” 

She read her letter over again and it still puzzled her. 
Tessy explained rather elaborately that the plan had 
just been settled, and apologized for the short notice. 
They could not take such a journey alone. Mr. and 
Mrs. Arnold were ready, and she was to spend a fort- 
night with them in San Francisco. They would be 
very happy to entertain her friend Miss Sherburne. 
And she, Tessy, was so eager to see Alice and Lady 
Ashton. 

“There is something the matter with it,” Dell said, 
almost indignantly to herself. “It doesn’t ring true. 
You can see the effort at explanation. I shouldn’t 
force myself in anywhere, and if she has friends she 
prefers to me ” 

Lyndell’s heart swelled, and her eyes filled with 
tears. She had counted so on Tessy coming to them. 
Miss Garrick was longing to see her. It was a sort of 
golden season with Aunt Aurelia that Dell hated to 


236 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


have her miss. And though she made friends easily, 
there were not many dear intimate ones beside her 
cousins. She did so want to see Alice in the new 
home she was so enthusiastic about. But the visit 
was spoiled for her, and she could not just tell why. 

“Try and persuade her to go,” Aunt Aurelia said 
to Millicent. “Aunt Julia will feel very sorry if she 
learns that her extra fortnight has prevented such 
a gratification.” 

Milly found her curiously firm. She was too loyal 
to Tessy to confess her at the bottom of the discom- 
posure. 

“It isn’t complimentary for you to want to get rid 
of me!” she exclaimed, with a pretense of indignation, 
while a smile shone through it. “I am just getting 
settled in the traces, and used to the quaint old- 
fashioned family carriage. We are going along so 
smoothly, finding pleasant little nooks, and resting 
under shady trees, where we have nice talks and those 
spaces of silence that often hold a deeper meaning than 
mere words. I want to feel that Sherburne House 
is my real home, and that I may live here for years. 
Heretofore it has been only a stopping place, not the 
best of all!” 

“Oh, if you feel that way!” Millicent’s eyes 
kindled. “My dear, a change /las come over you. 
For a while you were not happy. I thought you might 
be trying new theories or beliefs, or having some 
ambitions that needed a wider sphere. But papa was 
speaking of it a few days ago — he had been over, 
dining with you — and he said: ‘Lyndell is getting 
beautifully fitted to Sherburne House, and Aunt 
Aurelia to her.’ ” 

“Did he say that?” Dell flushed with pleasure. 


TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 


237 


“It is what I want. Sherburne House may be my 
home always.” Her voice had a little tremble in it 
that the elder detected but took no note of. “I am 
trying earnestly to be content and wait God’s time 
for any new thing he has appointed.” 

There had been a struggle. Millicent wondered a 
little. Immediate resignation had never been one of 
Dell’s qualities. Her nature was too strong, too 
impatient of results. 

“Dell,” suddenly, ‘T shouldn’t wonder if in the 
spring papa and I went out to California. Mamma 
confesses that her traveling fever is over. Papa is 
anxious to see Gifford, though he is doing very well. 
So the journey may only be delayed.” 

“Oh, Milly! what a delight! Hereafter I mean to 
earn my pleasures. I do want to be a comfort to 
everybody after all the trouble you have taken with 
me.” 

They were all gratified to have her relinquish the 
visit so readily, and throw herself so cheerfully into 
the Christmas preparation. Aunt Julia and the major 
came home in the best of spirits. She had regained 
her roses and her dimples, and was her usual self. 

“I can never thank you sufficiently,” she declared 
to Dell. “Cousin Carrick thinks I may go again, and 
is quite sure she can give Aunt Aurelia the proper 
companionship and that you have hardly missed me,” 
smiling to the brown eyes that smiled back again. 

‘T shall not be so uncomplimentary. But I am 
glad for the good time.” 

Something else came up in her mind that she could 
not confess. She had been taking her pleasure without 
considering how much of it belonged to another. 
There were many lovely things that belonged by right 


238 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


to Aunt Julia. In the years to come she must give 
back as had been given to her. She saw so many 
duties, and she meant they should have full oppor- 
tunity to do their work. 

The man in the house made a great change; a 
bright breeziness. The little boys were wild over 
papa. There would be no school for almost a fort- 
night, but they had plans enough to keep him busy. 
He sat and chatted with Aunt Aurelia with a child on 
each knee, and reminded Dell of her first Christmas 
at Sherburne House. He teased her, too, and was 
very fond of her. They had some good gallops 
together, and many bright talks. 

If Christmas was not so much of a family party, it 
included many of the old friends : Mr. Whittingham, 
looking thinner and older, and seeming more punc- 
tilious; young Kirby, who was somehow settling to the 
same quiet ways, the doctor and Miss Carew, and a 
few others. 

Leonard had come down the night before, but he was 
over early the next morning, with such merry wishes 
and jests that he seemed to bring an atmosphere of 
sunshine with him. Dell and Milly had been so busy 
with the gifts that they had to take part of the morn- 
ing to distribute them. So it was almost dinner time 
when she came down to greet the guests. Her 
happy, smiling face was full of joy. 

Leonard took her out to dinner. It gave her a kind 
of importance that kept the quick color coming and 
going. Spencer Kirby had been deep in a talk with 
Millicent; he and Leonard were the only young men. 
Then it was still a foregone conclusion that Dell would 
marry her cousin. And certainly he was a young man 
to be proud of. 


TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 


239 


She caught a word of what Dr. Carew was saying to 
Milly. 

“He expected to, but at the last moment there was 
an important operation he thought he could not afford 
to miss. But he will be down during the holidays.” 

Milly smiled and nodded. Did she know already? 
Dell thought so. 

The dinner was at three, and they sat a long while 
over the table. There was to be no dancing or even- 
ing festivities. Dell had refused all gayeties and 
wanted just the family party. 

There were many things for the elders to talk 
about. 

“They haven’t all the old times,” said Leonard, 
in a low tone. “Do you remember the first Christ- 
mas you were here?” 

Dell turned scarlet. 

“How we have scattered to the four quarters of 
the globe, almost! And I thought you would be 
away. Were you not going to California with Miss 
Murray?” 

“I did think of it, yes. I did not suppose she was 
going so soon. We meant to have her down here.” 

“Yes, her departure was sudden.” Leonard col- 
ored. Then he looked half furtively at Dell. “I 
thought you jvere inseparables,” he added. 

“But you see we have separated.” 

“Did you quarrel, girl fashion?” He did not look 
at her then ; he seemed half listening to his father. 

“No,” said Dell shortly. 

“But — were you not surprised?” 

“Yes, I was surprised at first. But you know Tessy 
is in no wise answerable to me, and, small as she is, 
she has a mind of her own.” 


240 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

“Dell, I hope you never will be anything but 
friends, dear friends.” 

“Why, we shall always be friends! I can’t imagine 
anything happening. And if you could really under- 
stand all the past ’’ 

“I do understand a good deal of it. I am proud 
of the stand you took; your loyalty through trials that 
would have discouraged any other girl. And I am 
doubly glad they have proved worthy of it. The old 
narrowness of the world is abating, and men are 
judging a man more by what he is. But Mr. Murray 
would stand a good many tests. They have some 
fine friends. Con, I hear, is quite a brilliant young 
man. Mr. Murray may justly be proud of his sons.” 

Mr. Beaumanoir was making a little speech, and 
Dell soon found it was in her honor. She bent over 
to listen, and the bright color came to her cheeks. 
And then he proposed the health of the future mis- 
tress of Sherburne House. 

Was Miss Sherburne really smiling down to her? 
Leonard rose and answered. 

“The next family gathering under this hospitable 
roof,’’ her uncle resumed, “will be to induct Miss 
Lyndell Sherburne into her new dignities, April next, 
when she comes of age. And in behalf of the whole 
family, who have learned to love her s® well, we will 
wish her a long and happy life.’’ 

Dell bowed, but her eyes were full of tears. Why, 
it seemed almost like deposing Aunt Aurelia. How 
really sweet and gracious she looked in her black 
velvet gown and fine laces 1 

When they rose from the table Dell went straight 
down to her and took both hands. She wore her 
beautiful diamond ring to-night, and the flash of it 


TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 241 

made a long ray over the young girl, like a star of 
guidance. 

“Oh, Aunt Aurelia!” she cried softly, but with a 
deep, penetrative earnestness, “how could Uncle 
Beaumanoir ’ ’ 

“My child, I asked him to. He said nothing but 
the truth. Shall we love each other any less when we 
have changed places? I do believe we have learned 
our lesson too well. And I want you to have many 
happy years. You believe that, do you not?” 

“I shall try to make them happy. And I want to 
make you happy as well.” 

“My dear child, you have, you do. You have won 
your father’s place.” 

They had been going on to the great drawing room. 
A fire of logs was burning brightly, and the chairs 
were in cozy groups for two or three to sit down and 
talk. 

Miss Garrick glanced up as Dell passed by her 
chair, and held her arm with gentle pressure. 

“’Relia just worshiped your father,” she said. 
“And it seems strange like, considering all the cir- 
cumstances, for there were so many grandchildren, 
and they’ve ah turned out so splendidly, that she 
should love you best of all. I didn’t suppose she’d 
ever be willing to give up, and she’s just as sweet 
about it as if she had never had all the power. Oh, 
my dear! don’t disappoint her in anything.” 

“She shall never have to give up anything. I am 
going to be Miss Sherburne, her handmaiden,” and 
Dell smiled winsomely. 

Then Mr. Whittingham caught her as she was leav- 
ing Miss Garrick and began to talk about her coming 
birthday. The Ghristmas feast seemed to revolve 


242 ' A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

about that. Surely this time she was put in her right 
place. 

Even the doctor said presently, with the funny 
twinkle in his eye: “Miss Sherburne of Sherburne 
House.” 

Dell’s only reply was a grave smile. 

“The duties of life come upon us whether we will 
or not. We may run away, but we cannot escape 
them. Jonah had to preach his sermon all the same, 
and then he was angry because it had the desired 
effect. We have to wait and be patient even when 
we have done our best. God doesn’t crown our 
efforts at once.’’ 

“If we could always tell which was the best,” the 
girl said slowly. “I have thought a great many times 
Sherburne House wasn’t best for me, and yet it was 
mine, whether or no. Oh, do you remember all the 
old times and the rebellions? Yet it has brought me 
so much pleasure, so many splendid gratifications, that 
I could not regret it. And now I am coming to look 
upon the duties, to be truly a daughter of the house. 
For I have had a great deal of love given me.’’ 

How sweet and brave she looked! Was there 
another love that had redeemed and purified itself, 
and was making a gift worthy of acceptance? There 
was a little fatherly pang as Leonard joined them. 
How much the handsome, imperious face had im- 
proved. Had the soul not made some strides as 
well? 

The doctor moved away, and joined Mrs. Kirby. 

“What a splendid young couple they make!’’ she 
said, not glancing directly at them, but singling them 
out by her words. 

Could Lyndell make any mistake now? 


TO-DAV AND TO-MORROW. 


243 


“They want us to sing,” he said. “Milly is hunt- 
ing up some Christmas music. How curiously one’s 
very soul gets stirred with emotions and resolves. 
Dell, are you magnanimous enough to forgive the 
mistakes and follies and tyrannies of — it is six years 
or more since we had our first meeting and our first 
quarrel. But to-night I would like to feel that we 
were real friends, that we might do for each other the 
nobler and less selfish things sincere Friendship holds 
as her divine right. Let us begin a new compact.’’ 

Dell raised her eyes with a great effort. And yet, 
some far intuition brought a firm conviction his were 
not lover’s eyes. His face had a calm, high resolve, 
yet it was not eager or importunate. 

“We have been foes, we have met under flags of 
armed truce ; you were my brave, generous savior in 
that time of doubt and trial; we have quarreled; we 
have been cousins and lovers, but never real friends. 
At least, the highest friendliness has been on your 
side. Dell, I owe you a great deal, and I want an 
honest chance of paying in the coin of true respect 
and brotherly love.’’ 

That certainly was not a lover’s tone. Was it only 
a beginning to lead to the same end? Milly called her 
in a soft voice, a little raised but not loud. 

“Yes, we will be friends,’’ she made answer. 


CHAPTER XV. 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 

E very day or evening there were neighborhood 
festivities, and the Sherburne young people were 
in continual demand. Millicent was having a second 
girlhood. One could hardly believe she had gone 
through the octave of a woman’s life. There were 
the fine, distinguishing marks that a well-used experi- 
ence gives, but she had not had time to settle into 
them; she never would now, because she was always 
reaching out to gather the next sweetness. The 
young girls who had been “big children’’ at her mar- 
riage hovered about her and waited for her plans; 
and occasionally someone said “Miss Millicent.” 
“Mrs. Von Lindorm ” seemed the name belonging to 
another life. 

What was it gave her the power and attractiveness? 
AVhen she went away again, as she would sometimes, 
this very ability and pleasantness should by right be- 
long to Miss Sherburne. Was it not the old dream of 
doing something, of calling in people to feasts? She 
would have a good deal to give. There would be no 
family claims as there had been on Miss Aurelia. 
Single women unconsciously narrowed their lives as 
they lost the flavor of youth. She knew it was not 
quite what she desired, but could she not keep hers 
broad? 

There was something right before her. She had 


244 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 


245 


taken it up with a girl’s eager generosity, quite forget- 
ful of self. Because God had not allowed her to do 
it in that manner, was it a token that it must never be 
done at all? 

Leonard and she were going to and fro all the time. 
He was her shadow, but the sort of unaggressive 
shadow the moon makes on summer nights. At mid- 
winter the clear, frosty air helps it to define the small- 
est bare twig. Not always alone, Leonard was a 
great delight to the young girls, and he danced gener- 
ously with them. But by common consent he was 
given to Dell. 

She had never felt more at ease with him. There 
was a curious half abstraction that softened him very 
much, made him less dominant. He talked of his 
plans, his aims; and very clear-sighted they were. 
They even stirred her pride in him. 

Could she come to any certain satisfaction in the 
old plans? Would he be large enough in the full 
measure of his development to satisfy her longings, or 
could she tone her aspirations so as to meet him half- 
way? 

Young Carew came down in the midst of the holiday 
pleasure, bringing the first installment of Millicent’s 
story. What a precious secret it was ! They did not 
even take Leonard into that; everybody had been 
proscribed but Dell. Uncle Beaumanoir hardly knew 
whether to be proud or not. His old-fashioned 
opinions held out against the modern advance of 
thought. 

They had quite a family party at the Beaumanoirs’. 
Bertram’s stay was to be so brief that the other old 
friends had to be content with calls. 

“Were you not surprised at Miss Murray’s sudden 


246 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

journey?” he asked Dell. ‘‘I thought you were going 
with her.” 

“We had talked it over. But the notice was so 
short. And I was away most of last winter, you 
know.” 

“I didn’t understand it at all. It isn’t like the 
same house. Dell, did you ever think what a curi- 
ous pervasive power Tessy Murray has? When she 
settles things, events, people begin to revolve about 
her.” 

There was an eager brightness in Bertram’s eyes. 
Violet had once said he was fond of dissecting mental 
connections. 

“Why ” Dell paused to consider. “She had 

that as a child. It wasn’t anything she ever tried to 
do, either. Everything came to her. Perhaps it Avas 
her sweet temper.” 

“There are other sweet-tempered women, with no 
special attractive force. It is something outside of 
that — the power of making a center, of harmonizing, 
blending. It might not show in the rush of fashion- 
able life, but she never aims at fashion, yet society 
people come and take her up. Socially the Murrays 
are great successes. There is so much change in a 
big city. I have to laugh when one little set arro- 
gates supreme power and sweeps away all others with a 
wave of its hand. There are many centers, and circles 
are widening out all the time. There are money and 
pleasure and birth and breeding; there are music and 
intelligence, and life is so short you can’t take them 
all in; so you must elect which you will serve, or you 
may float around on the outer edges, and drift all 
your forty or fifty years. I’m not sure but that the 
specialty business will be our salvation. The doing 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 


247 


of one thing well, rather than a great many things 
poorly.” 

“You think, then. Miss Murray has found her gift,” 
Leonard said. “Making a home, perhaps: making 
people happy. It is a pretty big thing in this world, 
after all.” 

“One of the greatest things, one of the most abused 
things as well. For we all look to be made happy, 
and some day she may be chosen just for that pur- 
pose. I wonder how much courage she would have 
to resist, if she was chosen by someone she liked very 
much.” 

“Why should she resist?” Leonard asked the 
question with fretted utterance. “Bert, you let your 
ideas about the new woman run away with you! 
What the world needs most is homes with brave, 
sweet, pure women in them.” 

“We have had them a long while — your mother, 
my aunt, who has been mother to ever so many. 
Thank Heaven 1 they do not go very much out of 
fashion.” 

“But you are trying your best to push them out as 
fast as possible, to make them doctors and clerks and 
professors.” His tone was sharp and resentful. 

“Because no man has come along to marry them,” 
laughed Bertram — “no man they would be the better 
for marrying. But too many are coaxed and persuaded 
or tempted to take some poor fellow, who turns to a 
brute and leaves them to provide for a family. I see 
so much of it. The girl who has money may not need 
to go out washing quite so soon. Yet she may be 
slowly drilled into a slave with a persistent master. 
Women have an enormous capacity for self-sacrifice.” 

“I don’t see what this has to do with Tessy Murray. 


248 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Dell, why don’t you stand up for your friend? And 
she is such a sweet little thing!” 

“If she finds a man like her father her sweetness 
will not be wasted. There are other qualities to her, 
however, and education has developed and strength- 
ened them. Her mother has all the sweetness, but it 
fell into good hands. I have never known a lovelier 
mother. I wonder what she would have done if it had 
been different? But it simply wasn't. 1 am very 
much interested to see what Miss Tessy will make of 
her life. I have come to know her so well ; better, no 
doubt, than any of you, beside Lyndell.” 

Dell flushed a little and glanced at Millicent, who 
wore a rather abstracted air. Leonard was plainly 
out of humor. He had admired pretty Tessy very 
much in the autumn, she remembered. Or was it 
simply because he could not bear his ideas traversed? 

Had there been anything unusual in Tessy’s de- 
parture? If so, had it not been — oh, what if Tessy 
had seen this possibility, or her father’s clearer eyes 
discerned it for her? Bertram and she had been such 
friends, such co-workers. Yes, there was more than 
sweetness to her. 

Would Leonard dwarf the woman who came into 
his life? But were all women’s lives laid on great 
lines? All men’s were not. There was an infinitude 
of common people; and, since she had no special 
gift, must she not be content to remain one, and do 
her good in the little round? Millicent did not disdain 
it. And how strange it seemed that just when she 
was settling to a kind of happiness in everyday life, 
some chance talk should disturb her — Bertram’s talk, 
often. 

They left themselves, however, and went at other 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 249 

topics. Carew said his good-by; he was to take a 
midnight train. 

“You will come up to New York?” he said, hold- 
ing Dell’s hand. “You and Millicent. There is 
really no doubt of her success,” smiling a little as he 
added, “it may be hard to get out of the old bound- 
aries, but her patience and lovingness will prove 
that a woman may be a genius and the highest type of 
woman, at that. We want a good many of the higher 
ones. There will be some famous people for you 
both to see later on.” Then he seemed to linger. 
“Do not hurry life too much.” 

That was scarcely more than a whisper. 

The three talked a little after they reached home. 
There were times when Bertram wished his father had 
not been so steadfast to the one memory and had 
married again; that there had been other children, 
girls, so many there would be nothing left to wish for. 
He was sorry, now that he had to go away. 

Aunt Neale put up a lunch in the daintiest manner. 
He would like it instead of a railroad breakfast. She 
kissed him good-night; then he and his father retired 
to the old study and smoked and talked. How many 
times the son had said: “If I had you with me! But 
I am counting on your extreme old age to have a 
little of you.” And now they talked medical lore and 
new things. 

“It is almost like a post-graduate course,” the old 
doctor said to his sister. 

Then they drove to the station. The night was 
dark and overcast, but the horse needed no guidance. 

“It is hard, but I think I am right,” Bertram said. 
“There is the inheritance. If she were quite poor! 
And I can never decide how sharp a wrench it would 


250 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


be to tear up all the fibers that have intertwined with 
the people as well as the place.” 

“But if she should make a mistake?” The 
father’s tone had a pang in it. 

“I do not think God will let her. If he means to 
have her belong here always— it will be his work, and 
he will bring it to the perfect fruit. I can’t hope; I 
can’t do anything but just wait.” 

Then they wrung each other’s hands and parted. 

Leonard went over to Sherburne House with the 
two old ladies and the young one, and stayed all night. 
It was so like home. He was gracious and charming 
again. 

The letters came just after breakfast, and a foreign 
one for Miss Garrick from her brother. It was brief, 
but it brought a flush to her thin cheek. 

“Leonard ” she looked up in distress. 

“Well, can I come to your assistance?” His bright, 
handsome face was a tower of encouragement in 
itself. 

“Fred writes — see here — about selling the place. 
It is so many years since he has seen it, and he hasn’t 
any idea that values have shrunk to nothing. Must 
I? He says, put it in someone’s hands, and ” 

The color deepened in her face, and her eyes were 
tearful as she handed him the letter. 

It was the acknowledgment of the news of his sister’s 
death, as if it had been that of almost any indifferent 
person. And he suggested that the estate be sold, as 
she would not want to live there alone. His half 
could be forwarded to him and would come very wel- 
come. His health was a good deal broken, and he 
had no dependence but his daughter. 

“I am afraid he will be disappointed if he has 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 


251 


counted on very much,” and Leonard gave a dry, 
scornful laugh. “You might give it away. Cousin 
Garrick ; but there are so many better estates — old 
homes begging for purchasers.” 

“It isn’t that — altogether.” Her voice had the 
strained sound of crying in it, and yet she was fight- 
ing against the inclination. “Why, I wouldn’t have 
any home myself,” in surprise. 

“You wouldn’t? What’s Beaumanoir — and Sher- 
burne House? And some day I may marry and have 
a home. Don’t you fear but that there will be homes 
enough for you.” 

She gave a soft little hysterical laugh and looked at 
him with shining eyes. The tears and gratitude made 
them young for a moment. 

“Don’t worry! See here, I will answer the busi- 
ness part of it; and you can refer him to me.” 

“If he wanted to come home and live! But he 
never will. And I don’t know how I am ever going to 
get along alone. There are the servants, to be sure.” 

“You will not go home before spring, Eliza; and 
between this and that the way will be made clear,” 
said Aunt Aurelia, in a tone of kindly firmness. “But 
it is true, as Leonard says ; so many of the old places 
have gone to decay and have little value in them.” 

“It took me so by surprise” — half in apology. 
“But I do suppose it was right after all. There’s 
never been anything done about the place. We each 
had a third, of course, and now poor Maria’s gone, it 
is easier still to divide; especially as he thought I 
would not want to live there.” 

She was ashamed of the selfishness that could make 
such a quick grasp. Her own brother, too ! 

“Yes, I’ll answer this.” Leonard took out his 


252 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

pencil and wrote down the address, and gave it an- 
other rather scornful glance. Then he looked over at 
Dell. She had a long letter in a pretty girlish hand, 
that was neither Italian nor modern, but beautiful, 
dainty. 

“From California?” 

“Yes, Tessy,” she made answer. “She is having 
the loveliest time in San Francisco with the Arnolds.” 

There was no constraint about this letter. It was 
brimful of all the little and big entertaining sights 
and events that Tessy’s bright eyes always saw. If 
Dell could only be there! 

They left the table presently. The ladies went up- 
stairs. Leonard followed Dell. 

“Atrocious, wasn’t it? that letter from Mr. Garrick? 
Even if there had been thousands in the place, he 
might have waited a decent time before pressing a 
settlement. Father says it will never do for her to 
go back there. She is a nice, pleasant old body.” 

Dell laughed with an odd remembrance. 

“It’s queer, but Tessy Murray proposed, last 
summer, that when” — Dell lowered her tone uncon- 
sciously — “when Miss Maria was gone she should 
come here. No, she suggested it. I think if Tessy 
Murray had Sherburne House, she would by and by 
turn it into a home for old ladies — she’s so fond of 
them. And she seems to find so many nice ones. Or 
babies! She haunts day nurseries. She gets poor 
women to make clothes, and gives them away, so her 
goodness goes twice around.’’ 

“Carew is mightily afraid she’ll fall in love with 
someone. I lost my temper last night. Dell, you 
don’t imagine — and she has had such opportuni- 
ties ’’ 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 


253 


Dell’s face was scarlet. 

“Carew doesn’t need any such kind of a wife. 
Tessy isn’t an intellectual woman, nor a strong- 
minded woman, but just the sweet, household sort of 
body that would make some man very happy, but she 
would be wasted on Carew.” 

“Oh, Len! and you like him so! You have always 
been such friends. And he ■” 

“Yes, between you both you brought me back to 
life and sense. Oh, I am not going to forget that. 
But ” 

He looked long and earnestly at Dell. Some sur- 
prise kept her quite mute. An underlying, intangible 
thought or suspicion haunted her and refused to take 
shape. He turned away, walked over to the window, 
as if he had resolved upon something, and then 
changed his mind. 

But he began again suddenly: 

‘‘There’s Milly. You two girls are inseparable. 
You will make some sort of a sisterhood presently. 
The worst feature in this woman’s idea is the aggre- 
gate home, not the individual home. A woman isn’t 
to waste her sweetness on one man and his fireside, 
but some great assemblage of people where her power 
can be felt and known and talked about. Think of 
a mite like Tessy Murray standing on a platform and 
making a speech ! ” 

Dell had been waxing indignant; now she laughed. 
The picture was so comical. Dell had never been 
to any important woman’s meeting, but she could 
imagine — did the women all talk together, like a lot 
of girls, and how would Tessy make herself heard? 
And Leonard’s voice had such a humorously aggrieved 
sound. 


254 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“I’ve brought your letters,” said Millicent, enter- 
ing. “There is one on private matters. Are there 
any plans for to-day? To-night we go to the Chandler 
Masons’, you know.” 

“And wish the New Year in! Why, I had almost 
forgotten it. I am so glad you mean to go. Uncle 
Dick and Aunt Julia are coming back to-day.” 

“And I must go to-morrow. I did mean to stay 
over Sunday.” He looked at Dell again, and the 
warm color flew to her face. What had brought back 
this old trick of blushing at everything? “You girls 
have good times, after all. You needn’t hanker for 
business.” 

Then he ran lightly upstairs to Aunt Aurelia’s room, 
to say good-by. She was alone, and glanced up with 
a smile of welcome. 

“Do not let Cousin Carrick worry over that miser- 
able letter ! ” he exclaimed. “Her brother ought to be 
considering her instead. And father doesn’t think 
she Should be allowed to return to that old ramshackle 
place. He will offer her a home gladly, and why 
shouldn’t you?” 

“You forget that my supremacy at Sherburne 
House is about expiring.” 

She glanced at him with a kind of inquiry that 
softened her face almost to a smile. Had she ever 
dreamed of taking it so. comfortably? 

“As if that mattered! As if Dell would not agree 
only too readily. You have just to try her generous 
inclinations.” 

He looked so assured and happy that she did smile 
then. Was he answering for her in some especial 
certainty? Miss Sherburne’s heart bounded with a 
secret joy. If the old dream should come true! 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 


255 


“Good-by,” he said, kissing her. “I may not be 
over again, but I shall run down now and then. Wish 
Cousin Garrick adieu for me.” 

He drove back with Millicent, as there were some 
matters he wished to attend to for his father. He had 
meant to explain to his cousin a surprising conclusion 
he had reached, but now there would be no oppor- 
tunity. He could not make one to-night. Would a 
month or two matter? 

They subsided presently to ordinary life. Dell was 
sorry to have Major Stanwood go. They did ask too 
much of Aunt Julia. Miss Sherburne’s health was 
fairly good, though she would never be strong again. 
Miss Garrick was really the more active. Dell smiled 
a little to herself, almost as if she could see her own 
reproduction in them as the years went on. Was it 
what one would choose? 

The other was at her hand, she thought. There 
were moments when it tempted her; not now, but in 
some distant time. How many of the finer, stronger 
qualities had come to the top in Leonard? “Like 
Uncle Beaumanoir,” who had made a fond husband, a 
wise and tender father. And soon he would yield to 
the larger appreciation of Millicent, for it was becom- 
ing evident that she could charm a circle of intelligent 
readers. She did not aspire to enchain the whole 
world ; she was glad to give and let people take joy- 
fully, or pass her by to a higher and finer work. If 
she gave of her best it was all she could do. 

Dell wondered how she could be so sweet and lov- 
ing under her father’s restrictions. They were of the 
old time, the dread that a woman would become less 
tender and domestic in any intense struggle for fame. 
And it was different even with Milly. She had been 


256 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


married and gone out from the home; she had an 
income — not large, to be sure, but was not dependent 
upon him. 

“I cannot understand yet why being a genius, or a 
lecturer, or on a committee that takes most of one’s 
time, should be so much more reprehensible than all 
this rush of fashion!” Dell said, with emphasis, as 
she had many a time before. It was her standing 
argument. And she always pointed it with: “Look 
at Ethel and Aunt Lepage!” 

“But papa doesn’t approve of that, either. It is 
anything, all things that take a woman from home. 
He only looks at the injurious side. But homes are 
not what they used to be. There isn’t the demand 
for the same kind of work. Machinery has revolu- 
tionized us all. The old-fashioned picture was a 
woman sitting at her needlework, or going about with 
her keys at her belt, reading Miss Austen and Mrs. 
Sherwood, and even Hannah More. I dare say 
there were people in those days who looked with 
terror on some of those literary women.” 

“And yet I have come to be a good deal interested 
in the talks of Aunt Aurelia and Cousin Carrick about 
these same people,” laughed Dell. “I find them a 
little prosy. They must have had loads of leisure.” 

“That is the charm to me. I am afraid we shall 
get to hurrying life too much, and be all nerves and 
sensations. It is good to stop and think God has 
some purposes and is able to bring them to pass. He 
may even smile in his infinite way over our little 
flurries and efforts, that never disarrange his plans.” 

“I wish I could think life was planned out, and all 
you had to do was go straight on. I hate the puzzling, 
the balancing, the fear of making mistakes.” 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 


257 


Millicent studied the young, impatient face. Was 
a mistake imminent in her life? Would she always 
be a little restless, with this changefulness of girlhood, 
and circumstances never quite outgrown? the half- 
digested thoughts flashing and lighting up her face. 
“She does need a wider sphere,” Millicent admitted. 
Would not a home in a great city give her this? 
After a few years of it she would be content to settle 
down. 

“I wish I were like you!” Dell said, in her swift, 
impassioned manner. “Not for the genius; I would 
leave you that. But for the peace and patience.” 

“There may be more credit in struggling against 
impatience. My first lesson was relinquishing and 
waiting, not for any particular thing, but just what 
God thought best to send.” 

“And you really have spoiled Uncle Beaumanoir. 
He doesn’t seem to think all this praise and recogni- 
tion might be sweet to you. And the years go on so 
fast!” 

“Do they, to you?” 

“Days seem slow — no, not always. I don’t do half 
the things I plan. And soon — in four months I shall 
be twenty-one. I am not ready for it. I wish I 
could put it off. But everything is to remain just as 
it is. I am not desirous of any power or any privileges 
that I do not have now. In fact, every month Aunt 
Aurelia develops some touch of sweetness, just like a 
new blossoming. And do you know, I think Cousin 
Garrick tried her a little at first, but now they get 
along beautifully. Aunt Julia has been the oil,” 
laughingly. “I am not sure, though, but that we 
ought to turn her out.” 

“Turn her out?” repeated Millicent, in amaze. 


258 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

Then Dell laughed merrily at the perturbed face. 

“Oh, you mean ” lighting up with amusement. 

“Yes, the right to her own life. But she -won’t, 
until matters change some way, unless Uncle Dick 
should be sent to some distant post. She thinks, or 
makes us believe that she does, that this is the best 
thing for the little boys. They do have a happy life, 
and I love them dearly myself.” 

“It doesn’t need to be settled to-day. Sufficient 
for the day are both the good and the evil. It wouldn’t 
be honest to reach over and take to-morrow’s good.” 

‘T wonder if it is not what I am trying to do! 
There, now I am going to talk to Miss Neale, and 
you shall go to your desk and write a poem or a 
chapter of a story.” 

Dell kissed her and ran downstairs. There was no 
one to stop and chatter with. And she had some new 
magazines for the young woman teaching Miss Neale’s 
school. That had enlarged its borders and was of 
much service. 

Millicent went to her desk and finished a letter, 
and then leaning her cheek on her hand, thought 
about her cousin. Was the destiny they all wished 
for her, that seemed now on the verge of being 
accomplished, the best thing that could happen to 
her? Was there some secret rebellion that she was 
trying to conquer? 

She went over to Sherburne House in the after- 
noon with a note that had just come. The second 
installment of her story had elicited some fine, dis- 
criminating praise, and the note was from Mr. and 
Mrs. Southgate, asking her to come up and spend a 
fortnight. 

“Qh, it is splendid!” cried Dell. “And what did 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 259 

Uncle Beaumanoir say? for I know you went at once 
and read it to him.” 

Millicent’s eyes softened with a lustrous light. 

He said, “I suppose I will have to give my little girl 
up to the world. It is almost like marrying you 
again,” and she flushed with a sort of girlish shyness. 
‘‘A queer idea, wasn’t it? but I can understand the 
sort of jealous love.” 

If she had a father to love her like that, she would 
never want to marry, Lyndell thought. 

“Of course you will go?” 

“Last evening I had a letter from Bertram. He 
advised me to, by all means. He has been so inter- 
ested in my success; indeed, I think he has con- 
tributed to it,” and she smiled deliciously, a happy 
smile that thrilled Dell. ‘‘He knows so many people; 
he keeps always in the midst of things. I am afraid, 
sometimes, he will wear himself out too soon.” 

Dell gave a sigh. Did he realize this lovely 
thoughtfulness? Just as Millicent cared for her 
father, for all those around her. 

‘‘And he said something else, Dell,” the wavering 
light giving her face persuasive tints that joined the 
pleading of the words. ‘‘He wants you to come. I 
want you, too. Can’t you go up to the Murrays’? 
Your visit was brought to such a sudden close last 
year. Or, if you liked better, there are nice, quiet 
hotels ” 

‘‘Morna wrote me a month ago,” interposed Dell 
hurriedly, glad somehow that she had been thought 
of. ‘‘Milly, Mrs. Murray is the sweet, old-fashioned 
wife that seems to be idealized” — among you all, she 
was going to sa’y, but checked what might seem a vex- 
ing reflection. ‘‘She cares how she may please her 


260 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


husband— did St. Paul object or not? I really forget. 
Mr. Murray and the boys and the babies — but oh, 
dear! there are no babies now, though I don’t know 
that Densie will ever be allowed to grow out of the 
nursery. She never writes a letter ; Morna has to do 
all this now. And she begged me to come if I was 
not going out to Tessy.” 

“Oh, then you will go?” delightedly. 

“I decided not to. There were things I wanted to 
do and think of, and a little discipline is good some- 
times. You know I am too restless. My repose of 
manner is largely for company times, but I a/u trying 
to cultivate it, and some deeper graces. They did 
not really need me, for all Tessy has gone.” 

“But you can reconsider! And a week or two 

Then Mr. Southgate is delightful. You don’t need 
to have written a book in order to meet such people.” 

“Oh, my dear! tempt me not.” She was not quite 
strong enough to face the joy of these two people, who 
were so ready to take her into the best of their lives. 

“I should so like to have you.” 

A certain resolute steadiness came to Dell’s face, 
the Sherburne decision. Millicent never teased. 
She gave Dell the note to read. It was most kindly 
and assuring, with the advice of a wide experience. 

“Why, they would want you all the time,” she 
said, with an attempt at mirthfulness. “You will be 
meeting grand people and going to teas and recep- 
tions, and I would be the — the fifth wheel,” raising her 
bright, soft eyes with her strength of will. “No, you 
must have no one to feel anxious about; no one to 
detract from your splendor! Oh, Milly! I am glad. 
I didn’t want your light forever hidden under a 
bushel.” 


KINSFOLK AND FRIENDS. 


261 


“We wanted to be certain it was a light. If it had 
only been a ‘farthing rush,’ I might have been grateful 
for the protection.” 

Milly begged Aunt Julia to try to persuade her. 

In the midst of it all Leonard came down with 
urgent messages and positive instructions to bring 
them both up to Washington. Ethel felt herself rather 
aggrieved that neither of the girls had accepted any of 
her invitations. He was quite surprised at Millicent’s 
new honors, and really very eager for her success. 

Dell wondered a little at this. 

Aunt Aurelia quite insisted. ‘‘There is no such 
time of enjoyment as youth, and two old women are 
quite enough in one house. You have been nowhere 
this whole winter. You cousins ought to keep up the 
old cordiality.” 

The tide was too strong to stem. 

‘‘You see Ethel will be almost indignant to 
stand social sponsor for Milly’s new glories. You will 
have to come and help me bear it. And then Milly 
can meet you later on,” declared Leonard.- 

‘‘Oh, yes!” returned Milly eagerly. ‘‘I am only 
invited for a week or ten days, but I thought I should 
like a little visit in the Murrays’ charming home nest. 
I will explain to Ethel, so that she may not feel hurt, 
and promise to come. That settles it, Dell.” 

It was better arranged that way. Dell resigned her- 
self. Was she resigning herself to something else as 
well? In the confusion she could not discern clearly. 

“Len,” she said laughingly — he had been especially 
solicitous and tender to Millicent — ‘‘I thought you 
would abhor a literary woman!” 

‘‘Not a woman like Millicent! No, I shouldn’t 
abhor, but I shouldn’t ever marry one. Maybe 


262 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


you have found by this time that I do not love to 
share adoration. My wife must live for me, not the 
world.” 

Was he warning her? He gave a soft laugh, quite 
as if he was satisfied. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A lover’s confession. 

L YNDELL SHERBURNE never could recall 
j exactly, in the after years, how much she had 
determined at this period of her life, whether she had 
thought it possible to love her cousin in any wifely 
fashion, or best to keep her own soul pure and strong 
for whatever might come in the future; whether she 
had made her ideal so high that she would be unable 
to attract it, or if it was the figment of a girl’s ro- 
mantic fancy, to be toned to proper reality as time 
went on. 

She saw a good deal of her cousin now among men 
of the world. He carried weight and had a dignified 
air ; he was handsome, and women were making much 
of him on every side. That seductive sense of power 
that men and women yield to unconsciously, the fine 
inflections of voice that give ordinary words a new and 
deeper meaning, the elegant polish and suave manner, 
startled and entertained her. At first it seemed unlike 
him, insincere; as if it was the real Leonard only that 
came down to Beaumanoir and laid aside the society 
adjuncts, was eager, boyish, petulant, imperious, and 
affectionate by turns. Did people show their real 
selves in society? Or was it that souls were many- 
sided, with facets that caught different rays and gave 
back corresponding colors? 

But neither could she make the Ethel she had 
known abroad out of Mrs. Longworth, who was really 

263 


264 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

a power in society, of a different caliber from her 
mother. She upheld the Longworth dignity royally. 
She seemed to know all about art and music and new 
books that were making a stir, theories that were 
engrossing people, nations that were progressing or 
retrograding, men and women who had done notable 
things. She had wonderful social tact. To-day it 
was one little coterie at luncheon, adjusted with nicest 
harmony, in the evening grave men of culture or 
science, to-morrow night a dinner and a dance to the 
favorite young dibutantes; the next day a debate in the 
House, and so on. 

Leonard smiled over Dell’s perplexity. 

“It is living out of doors the whole time,” he said. 
He came in nearly every evening. He was at hand 
to do anything for Ethel, to dance with pretty girls, 
to join a theater party, to drive with her, to drop in 
to afternoon teas and chat. She was proud of him, 
and yet it almost seemed as if she patronized him as 
well. He took it good-humoredly, and said to Dell 
that everybody had to be on their best behavior. 

He made the peace by telling her Milly’s successes 
before she could see the account of her pretty recep- 
tion in New York. She was surprised and gratified 
that she should have the first chance with her here. 

“I don’t see why she didn’t keep her title, the 
foolish girl! Society demands so much nowadays. 
And her romantic marriage and widowhood will do a 
good deal for her.’’ 

Dell seemed quite lost for the fi4*st week, bewildered 
by the kaleidoscopic life. But she met some old 
friends and made new ones. It appeared indeed as if 
one made them easily; but you only went so far. A 
few might last another season. 


A LOVER'S CONFESSION. 


265 


Aunt Lepage had taken up the role of an invalid, 
and Dell thought it sat quite gracefully upon her. 
She took her airing on sunny days, she sat languidly 
on the sofa at afternoon teas, with a soft white wrap 
slipping partly off her shoulders. She had a select 
circle of her own friends, women who talked nervous 
prostration and doctors, sometimes speculated in a 
mild, chilly way upon faith cures and Christian sci- 
ence. Women’s clubs and the suffrage threw them 
into paroxysms of terrified disgust. 

Leonard seemed more real to her than anyone else, 
perhaps because she knew the other side of him so 
well. 

“It is all like a play,” she said, when he dropped 
in one afternoon. Ethel had gone to a grand recep- 
tion, very select indeed. No one had permission 
even to invite a friend. 

“But you really wouldn’t care,’’ she said to Dell. 
“If you would like a drive, I will send Mrs. Travis in 
to chaperon you.’’ 

“I would rather stay at home,’’ she pleaded. So 
Leonard found her in the small reception room used 
for family purposes, curled up in a big chair with a 
novel. 

“It is a kind of stage performance, when you take 
it in this fashion,’’ he replied. “Ethel is quick to 
catch up the fads. She will be a success because she 
will take them all when they are new, and drop them 
before they have a chance to get worn threadbare, or 
suggest the slightest flavor of staleness.’’ 

“There isn’t any real living in it. I do not wonder 
Alice wanted something different. But the queer 
thing is that Mr. Longworth seems satisfied; really 
pleased, indeed.” 


266 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Leonard shrugged his shoulders. “I dare say he 
has drained most of the cups of delight and found 
dregs at the bottom of all. Now he is a prosperous 
man, with a good name and a fair record, a power 
not behind thrones, exactly, but a good many large 
ventures. Men wait for his nod. Politicians know 
the worth of his name, seldom allowed to be used 
and so kept in good repute. He has a young, hand- 
some, well-bred wife; for though I do not consider 
Ethel as pretty as Alice and not half as sweet, she is 
much more effective in society. And she holds herself 
regally; there will never be any scandal about her.” 

“Scandal!” There was a little horrified look in 
Dell’s eyes. 

“Yes. A good many women are careless, impru- 
dent, longing to play with fire and believing they can 
manage it so that they will not even be singed ; but it 
is a hard thing. And Ethel is quite heartless, as a 
society woman needs to be.” 

“You are cynical.” Dell was rather mystified. 

“But I have some dreams left. I mean,” coloring 
a little, “that 1 have begun to dream. I dare say you 
think me narrow and selfish. Perhaps I am. But I 
want one draught of — 'what some have found so 
sweet.’ ” 

He paused and looked at his watch. Then he 
glanced intently at his cousin, hardly heeding that 
her face fluttered from pink to scarlet. 

“Dell, I want to tell you a story. For three 
months almost, I have been a coward, delaying ” 

“Oh, do not, do not!” She sprang up in dismay. 
She poised a moment, the embodiment of flight. 
No, she could not listen; she knew in that instant, 
when the supreme test came. 


A LOVER'S CONFESSION-. 


267 


“Dell, my dear cousin, it is not as you think, if 
you do think I mean to importune on a subject that 
would have no real heart in it for either of us.” He 
caught her arm and drew her back to the chair, while 
he sank in the corner of the sofa from which he had 
but half raised his graceful length. 

“And yet,” he added, in a serious tone, “I am to 
purchase a certain sort of immunity by asking you to 
marry me. Dell, I know now you do not love me; 
perhaps you never could in a satisfying manner. You 
do not know what love is ; and you will need a better 
man than I to rouse your admiration. Is that 
humble enough?” 

“I don’t understand you. I know they have 
begun to believe again. Aunt Aurelia ” 

She covered her face with her hands. 

“We had better have it all out now. Don’t you 
remember Christmas night I asked that we might be 
friends? Such friends as we have never been before, 
the sort of friend one can make confession to, and 
receive absolution from. I meant to tell you all 
through that visit, but every opportunity was nipped 
by an untoward fate. I have never appreciated you 
so much, and now I would not wound you by offer- 
ing you any but the highest love. That I cannot do. 
That belongs to another!” 

Had she been so mistaken ! Perhaps there is always 
a sense of mortified vanity when a woman finds she 
has been supplanted. She had been trying so hard to 
accept what looked like love, earnestness, and she was 
bewildered to find it mistranslated. She glanced help- 
lessly at him. 

“If you could guess! Someone who went into 
exile cheerfully; someone who would not wrest a 


268 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


crumb from her best friend; who would pluck out her 
right eye rather than indulge in a mean or dishonor- 
able thought.” 

She saw it written in his face, or it came to her in 
some subtle trick of consciousness. 

“Tessy!” she cried, and then she was frightened. 

He began to pace the room, but the soft carpet 
gave back no step. 

“Tessy Murray! I asked her to marry me last 
December, and she had a dozen conscientious scruples 
about you. I asked her father, and he flatly refused 
me. That was why Tessy went away so suddenly.” 

“Refused you! I don’t understand ” 

“I hardly did myself at the time. It was the 
Murray pride against the Beaumanoir pride. No, let 
me do him justice. It was a sense of honor that I 
shall always admire. The two families had come to 
be friendly. Tessy had been received as a trusted 
friend and guest at Sherburne House, and he would 
not allow anything to be done to mar the confidence 
that it had taken years to establish. He advised me 
t6 relinquish her, and suggested there might be a 
marriage much more satisfactory to all parties.” 

The same high integrity that had characterized 
Mr. Murray’s dealings with her when his affection 
had been stabbed and rent by sharp unkindness! 
And that another should be cruelly wounded — sweet, 
loving little Tessy! Dell reached out suddenly, as if 
to shield her with protecting arms. 

“I am so sorry!” she cried. “Oh, how could 
you ! how could you ! ’ ’ 

“Dell, some day you may learn it all for yourself. 
Until then it will be a mystery no one can explain. I 
think I fell in love with her that night I went to the 


A LOVER'S CONFESSION. 


269 


theater for you, though I did not realize it until in the 
summer. I used to go up to their seaside cottage on 
Long Island, and I fell in love again with the mother, 
with the whole lovely crew of them ! They were so 
enchanting in their simplicity. It was like a pastoral, 
a little bit of real living among the shams and pre- 
tenses and strifes and envyings. I felt for a while that 
I was not fit for any such pure, sweet life. It was the 
beginning of a reformation, yet I struggled against it 
mightily. Morally I was not so far out of the way. I 
had been a good deal spoiled by indulgence, and the 
love lavished upon me had made me selfish instead of 
generous. Well, I am a sorry kind of hero. I’ve 
done a good deal of sinning against you. I’ve had 
courage enough to confess it, but there never seemed 
an opportunity. Providence must have sent us this 

afternoon ” He sat down beside her again, and 

after a pause continued: “You see, I have been so 
used to considering only my own pleasure, and how 
things affected me. Grandfather and Aunt Aurelia 
spoiled me. I was nearly always at Sherburne House, 
and I grew up with the feeling that it ought to be 
mine. I came to love you very dearly when the 
matter reached a reasonable sort of adjustment. But 
you outgrew my ideal sweetheart, who was to be petite 
and clinging and shyly tender, the sort of wife you 
could hold and caress and tease a little, and who 
would always worship you!’’ 

“And I am not petite., nor very worshipful,’’ she 
interrupted, smiling in spite of a certain sadness. “I 
am too strong, too ’’ 

“Too clear-eyed, perhaps,” and he gave a soft half 
laugh. “Dell, you should have been Constantine 
Murray's child. Mrs. Murray has given her individ- 


2 70 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

uality to Tessy. She isn’t weak, either. When you 
think of a mother who has trained such a flock — well, 
she is fit to be set beside my mother, which is saying 
a good deal. And the man you marry ought to have 
no petty meanness in his soul, for your eyes would 
wither him ! ’ ’ 

In a vague fashion she saw it. There would have 
been “places” between her and Leonard that would 
have caused heartaches. 

“Perhaps if you had been born at Sherburne House 
we should only have been cousins — or if you had 
been a Lepage daughter. But I did covet Sherburne 
House. And when I learned to love you so well, one 
of my dreams was of presently spending our lives 
together there. Still — understand, I couldn’t have 
married for that alone, and I was jealous of anyone 
else. Dell, I wonder how you endured me through all 
that weary time, all that supreme selfishness! I am 
filled with shame when I think of it. Can you ever 
be generous enough to forgive it?” 

“I think I did not give it that name.” There were 
tears in Dell’s eyes. 

“You were all worlds too good for me. But in that 
wretched episode with Anita Garcia I found out, or 
perhaps I had not missed or realized it before — that 
you did not love me as most men wish to be loved. 
You never have, Lyndell.” 

He reached over and took both hands. He glanced 
into her eyes. Her face was scarlet with shame that 
he should look into her soul and miss what had never 
been there. 

“I want to be loved in an eager, demonstrative 
fashion! I want love to flash out unexpectedly, to 
have caressing ways, to make me feel it, to thrill to it. 


A LOVER'S CONFESSION, 271 

to half give and half withhold, but not from any 
scarcity. But then I was bound to have my own 
way. I could not bear to be thwarted. I said I 
would win you again. I knew I must take the fortress 
of respect first. I offered the only amends in my 
power ” 

“And if I had said, go to her — if she had forgiven 
you, taken you back?” Lyndell gasped. 

‘‘She would not have forgiven me. Women with 
her blood never do. And I knew you would not send 
me back. ” 

“Then you were not honest!” she exclaimed, with 
sudden passion. 

‘‘I made myself believe it for the moment. But I 
was older and growing wiser. And I began to feel 
that Sherburne House had been a snare. Still, if you 
had loved me I do not think a ‘mine or thine’ would 
have troubled us. I should have loved the old home 
so. And oh, Dell ! believe that I should have tried 
my utmost to make you happy. My father has been 
an ideal husband, and I should have endeavored to 
emulate him. You see, then, I had really loved no 
one else. I had not had any violent boyish fancies 
except that little streak of ill-fated tenderness. Will 
you believe this?” 

She knew in her heart it was so, and nodded slowly, 
acquiescently. 

‘‘And to-day, always, I shall have a tender love for 
you, something more than brotherly. I shall feel 
indeed as if I had married your little sister.” 

“But, Tessy ” Dell was sore confused. 

‘‘I shall make it come right. I will wait years, 
until I have convinced everyone this is my only, 
unalterable love, I wanted to tell you first, since it 


272 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


explained some things that have led to a misunder- 
standing with the others. Is it all clean and clear 
between us? Will you let me win a brother’s place 
and esteem henceforth? Mr. Murray will not con- 
sent unless Tessy can be cordially welcomed in her 
new relation. I do not think anyone will stand out 
long against my happiness. In that respect he is right 
enough. Tessy is educated, accomplished, refined, 
and has had advantages of travel. Then she has a 
natural sense of the proprieties; that charming, easy 
way, as if she had known everything from the begin- 
ning. She is like a dainty nymph cut in fine cameo. 
She has spirit and dignity, too, and a strength you 
would hardly look for — the strength to be rigidly up- 
right at any cost.” 

It was delightful to hear her praised. It was lovely 
to know that a feeling of the highest honor had made 
her reticent and seemingly cold, not any forgetfulness 
of friendship’s sacred claim. 

But the complications it was bringing about! Dell 
looked at him in a steady, inquiring, if half alarmed 
manner. 

“It was in early December when I asked her. One 
evening there were several guests, and among them a 
very attractive young man, quite desperately in love 
with her. I felt then I must put my fate to the touch. 
I had meant to take the midnight train to Washing- 
ton, but I stayed over. I was not sure Tessy any- 
thing more than admired me as your cousin, and yet 
I had seen a few shy indications that had set all my 
pulses athrill. Well, I was not long in finding out the 
sweet knowledge.” 

A soft light illumined every feature. Dell thought 
he had never looked so handsome. And the half sigh 


A LOVER'S CONFESSION. 273 

of remembrance that escaped his lips stirred her 
strangely. 

“And then began the trouble — not the first moment, 
for that was given over to utter deliciousness. She 
had a thousand sweet scruples concerning you, and 
she insisted, before any promise was given, that I 
should ask you in all honesty to marry me. As if a 
man could in all honesty! And then I felt self-con- 
victed in the matter of Anita.” 

“And you told her that?” 

“No, I didn’t. Oh, I am not half through con- 
fessing, but yours comes first. I think I did finally 
convince her, but I promised this, that if I saw any 
real sign of yielding on your part, I would consider it.^ 
I suppose she thought, sweet saint! that with oppor- 
tunity you must needs love me, and she would defraud 
you of no right. Then I went to her father, and that 
evening we had a family conclave. These Arnolds 
were going to San Francisco in about a week, and had 
asked Tessy to go with them. You can guess the 
arguments Mr. Murray used. The thought that his 
family had taken any undue advantage to bring about 
such an engagement pained him to the quick. And 
the feeling that Tessy might not be made cordially 
welcome was a source of poignant disquiet. I prom- 
ised that for three months I would hold no communi- 
cation with her, but I would not stipulate to use my 
best efforts to forget her.” 

He smiled with a fascinating tenderness, as if he 
saw her before his eyes. What strange tumult of feel- 
ing did it awaken in Lyndell? She had prayed some- 
times in that intense, wordless fashion, of the thought 
unexpressed, that Leonard might be attracted to 
someone and leave her conscience clear. If it were 


274 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


some brilliant girl here in Washington she could be 
glad. ButTessy! 

He watched the changes going over her face. 

“Are you angry?” he cried. “I know I must 
seem a weak, despicable fellow in your sight. Yet 
if you had really loved me, I should not have come to 
this experience, you see. I should have been loyal to 
you in every respect. I suppose there are hundreds 
of people who marry on that kind of love and settle 
to very comfortable lives. But I am afraid” — he 
drew her nearer to him and pressed his lips to her 
forehead — ‘‘I am afraid in some respects I should 
want to make you over, and you would not take 
kindly to the process.” 

“No, I should not.” The answer seemed wrested 
from her. There was a subtle, insurmountable 
difference. 

“You are noble and grand; at least, you will be 
when you get all your soul-growth. You would want 
a man to be in the large, philanthropical movements, 
to go outside, to work for the world, for the high 
theories of humanity. I have naturally an ease-loving 
nature. It is the little circle right around me — home, 
wife, children,” and his voice fell to a tender, touch- 
ing inflection. 

She saw it all, like a picture. Tessy filling just 
such a place as Mamma Murray, rich in love and ten- 
derness and all sweet influences. Only, it should be 
at Sherburne House. 

He rose then, and taking Dell’s hands, drew her 
up as well, making her face him. 

“Now that I have really given up Sherburne 
House” — did the thought startle her, so different 
and yet so akin to hers?— “I feel a fresh accession of 


A LOVER'S CONFESSION. 


275 


manliness. I wonder if I can make you understand? 
I shall always love it. I shall want to make pilgrim- 
ages to it. And I think I could not be thoroughly 
happy with a woman whose soul was not fine enough 
to appreciate the ties there have been between us^ the 
tender remembrances that must always remain.” 

She was touched then to her inmost being. “Oh,” 
she cried, ‘‘I want you to know that I tried; that 
there were times when I truly believed I loved you. 
It was not all because I wanted to give you back 
Sherburne House. And they all loved me so!” 

“But your fancied duty was a great factor. It was 
a hundred times nobler than my selfish desire. I can 
believe now that God withheld us from that greater 
mistake ; but if it had happened I believe he would 
have given us grace to do our best. And now, dear, 
I think I can truly say I am glad it is yours. In the 
new home that I shall make I want you to be a loved 
friend and sister, like Millicent. And if you do not 
write a book,” laughing a little, “I think you will do 
a good work somewhere in the world that can take its 
place beside hers. And now, knowing me better than 
ever, shall we join hands in a lasting friendship?” 

She gave him hers. He pressed it reverently to his 
lips. It was a new and sacred compact. 

The man was lighting up the hall, and the long ray, 
streaming in, served to show the twilight of the room 
that had stolen on them unaware. 

“I have talked unconscionably!” he exclaimed. 
“There were such long arrears • to straighten up. 
And now I must go, or Ethel will think me an un- 
mitigated heathen. What is it to-night?” 

“The dance at the Cranfords’ in honor of the 
young lieutenant. Oh, I don’t want to go! I just 


276 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


want to stay at home and think. And Ethel told me 
to go to bed for an hour, so as to be nice and fresh. 
She is very kind to me, though I thought once she 
would never forgive the part I seemed to have in 
Alice’s marriage.” 

“There is a happy wife! And now run to bed, or 
the sofa, and be fresh for to-night; for I shall be there, 
filling up the dance pauses with talk. Adieu ! ” 

She vanished up the broad stairway just in time, 
for a few moments later she heard the trained voice of 
Mrs. Longworth and her light step. 

Lyndell threw herself on the couch in a tumult of 
thought. She could not tell in the first few moments 
whether to be glad or to cry. There was a great, 
strange pang in her soul that she could not under- 
stand. It came from the growing out of some plan 
that had seemed a duty, that she had struggled against, 
and finally accepted ; that she had indignantly relin- 
quished, and softened to again. 

Leonard was right. They would never have 
reached the highest plane of happiness. There 
would have been friction, efforts, discouragements. 
The perfect and entire relationship of marriage would 
have been marred. She had no personal disappoint- 
ment; it was for the others. Why should she see it 
so plainly, so keenly now; look at it, indeed, with 
such a large, suffering pity? 

Why was it that she did not rejoice in her own 
unquestioned freedom? Why was there a cold, bleak 
feeling, as if she were left out in some kind of a 
storm? Life was not hopeless, or useless, or even 
devoid of pleasure. But she did not want to begin 
with the pleasure to-night. 

Mrs. Longworth resigned herself to the hands of 


A LOVER'S CONFESSION. 277 

her skillful maid, and to her couch for half an hour. 
There was only a quiet dinner, with two large land 
speculators from the Western Coast, who rejoiced at 
the opportunity of such a talk with Mr. Longworth. 
Ethel was gracious and dignified. Mrs. Lepage did 
not come down. 

Then there was an elaboration at the hands of the 
maid, and Lyndell emerged a very striking young 
woman in her white silk gown and delicate laces — a 
candidate for the evening’s honors as well as Lieu- 
tenant Cranford. Leonard met them. Was this tall, 
stylish cousin the reason he was so impervious to 
insidious attentions and preferences? Miss Sherburne 
had a kind of elegant, distant grandeur that Mrs. 
Longworth approved. Indeed, she had complimented 
her on getting rid of her demonstrativeness. 

To-night she moved like one in a dream. Even 
Leonard, in his superb health and brilliance, seemed 
unreal to her. So admirably calculated for society, 
she could not understand the sort of love he had 
confessed. 

“You look as if you did not believe in me, Dell!” 
he exclaimed softly, in one of the pauses. 

‘T feel somehow as if I did not believe in any- 
body. I can’t make it true. What is to come 
next?” 

He gave an almost imperceptible shrug. 

“A conference with Mr. Murray, I think. I shall 
go up after Millicent. She, lovely soul, has gone to 
the Murrays’ in the most unsuspecting frame of mind, 
and waxes eloquent over Morna. So many honors 
have been showered upon her, the flavor will be taken 
out of Ethel’s.” 

They turned and moved away with other partners. 


278 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


But presently they found each other, and he took her 
for an ice. 

“It is a brilliant scene,” he said, glancing out of 
the wide doorway. “Like a young girl, I remember 
my first winter, when it seemed as if I could never get 
my fill of pleasure. How do they go on forever?” 

‘ ‘But there are new people. And someone is always 
taking the first of it. And lovers, real lovers, and 
others playing at it. It is interesting.” 

“But to do the same thing over and over for 
years ! ’ ’ 

“Evidently your heart is not in it,” smilingly. 

“No, it is out there,” making a little indication with 
his head. “What do you suppose they are doing— 
Alice and Tessy? Has she written much to you? Is 
she very unhappy, think?” 

A hundred times he had spoken to her in that 
pleading, entreating, persuasive tone, but it seemed 
as if she heard it then for the first time. 

“No, I think not unhappy.” 

“Will you write to her? Tell her ” 

“Oh, may I?” raising her eyes eagerly. 

“I shall be glad to have you. This has been the 
longest three months of my life. And what it has 
been to her! I knew what I meant to do, but with 
her there must have been uncertainty. Oh, Dell ! how 
lovely you women are to trust so!” 

She remembered someone else who had trusted, in 
the simple ignorance of her heart. Yet Anita was 
very happy in her new life. 

Lyndell was glad to have her signal from Ethel. 
They could afford to retire early. Miss Sherburne 
was not husband-hunting. 

Leonard put them into the carriage. “I do wonder 


A LOVER'S CONFESSION. 279 

if they are engaged?” thought Ethel. “Len is so 
indifferent to everybody. But he could marry a 
million or two, if he chose, with that face and bearing.” 

Dell stole an hour for her letter the next day. But 
she sat with her pen in her hand and dreamed. 
What could she say while everything was unfinished? 


CHAPTER XVII. 


COMPLICATIONS. 

L eonard declared he could not wait for Milly to 
j finish her visit, as every day there came some 
new thing. But Dell knew it was his own impatient 
longing. 

She had tried to plan for the ending. 

“Nothing does come out as you wish, or in the way 
you plan,” she said, discouraged. 

If Leonard only had chosen someone else, she 
thought, she could exult in the knowledge of freedom. 
But it was like being unwound with one end of a 
chain and wound up with the other ; the feeling that 
she would be asking a welcome for her friend, instead 
of joyfully insisting upon a welcome for Leonard’s 
wife. 

His two days lengthened to four. There was no 
letter, only a telegram saying when they might be 
expected. 

The wife of the English Minister was giving a tea. 
Dell did not care, so she went to the station to meet 
Milly. 

How lovely and inspiriting she looked! Praise and 
attentions had roused the quiet of her nature. 

“It has been delightful!” she said to Dell, as she 
clasped her hand. ‘T did not know that I was cap- 
able of taking in such intense satisfaction. I did wish 
you were there to temper the giddiness and enjoy the 

280 


COM PLICA TlOJSrS. 


281 


lovely receptions — artists and authors and people of 
note just giving you their everyday life; not attiring 
it in fine raiment because you were you.” 

“And Ethel means to have it all over.” 

‘‘Ethel is one of the lady patronesses of the world. 
What she will be in ten years more — well, some of the 
stars above, made possible by new discoveries, may 
open their hospitable palaces to us in that time. She 
will be among the earliest callers, before the thing 
gets common.” Leonard uttered this with good- 
natured irony. 

‘‘I should like to go straight home, but that never 
would do,” subjoined Millicent. ‘‘I am really 
tired.” 

‘‘You can have this evening to rest in. There is a 
ladies’ luncheon and an elegant dinner for the elect, 
to-morrow. And we are besieged with invitations.” 

‘‘What a fuss! As if no one ever wrote a story 
before — very good ones, too,” blushing and smiling. 

‘ ‘It isn’t altogether that 1 ’ ’ returned Dell. ‘ ‘People 
knew you before. And Violet was so admired last 
winter, and there was her marriage to Paul Amory.” 

‘‘Poor father, with two famous women! He will 
have to get his comfort out of Fanny.” 

They all laughed at that. Fanny was the least 
charming and the least domestic of the three girls. 

Millicent was handed out first. Dell gave Leonard 
a look of intense, impatient inquiry. 

‘‘It will all come right,” he whispered. “I get my 
way sooner or later.” 

Dell took Milly up to her room, which connected 
with the one she had. The maid came in and un- 
packed her trunk and brought her up some tea. 

“We shall have a good hour,” said Dell. 


282 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


They sat in the pretty wicker chairs beside the 
dainty table and sipped their tea. 

“Oh, Milly! were you very, very much surprised?" 
Dell asked at length, her voice all in a tremble, her 
color wavering with a touch of fear. 

“About Leonard? Oh, Dell! I don’t know what to 
say. It was your place, with all of us. You were 
right in the other instance; but lately, through the 
winter, he seemed so changed, so sweet and thought- 
ful, and we all took heart again, believing it your 
influence ’’ 

“I have never influenced him to any appreciable 
extent,” Dell said, with a slight bitterness. 

“Yes, I think you have, in many things. You 
have influenced us all, dear, and we are glad to have 
you. If you could have been put in that place! And 
Leonard insists that you never truly loved him, that 
it was an attempt all the time and not a spontaneous 
outgiving. My darling, if I cou/d believe that! You 
gave him up, I know, and papa was satisfied then. 
But since ” 

Her lovely eyes overflowed with tears, and her lips 
quivered with emotion. 

“Oh, Milly! it A true. Can one make that kind of 
love come at will? I wanted to, because you were all 
so kind and fond to me, and I did take delight in the 
thought of Leonard being some day at Sherburne 
House. Anita Garcia’s love was stronger and better 
than mine, and somehow it opened my eyes. But 
she has outlived it, and it really never was a love on 
his side. It was unfortunate, but I do not think he 
was deeply to blame. Though I was angry then at 
his decision, which was the best thing for every- 
body.” 


COMPLICATIONS. 283 

“Oh, Dell!” Milly gave a long, half-incredulous 
sigh. 

“I don’t know how high, how far-fetched and 
impossible a girl’s ideal of love is, but that never 
reached mine. And it seems as if love ought to come 
without so much effort.” 

“If he had broken your heart, or wounded it 
beyond redemption, I should have had hard work to 
forgive him. Leonard has many fine qualities, but 
he is nowhere near perfection. I always thought, as 
a wife, you would have great influence over him.” 

“And Tessy will. Millicent, I have been looking 
myself over these few days in a kind of surprised 
way. There isn’t much perfection about me, either. 
I feel as if I wanted a teacher, a trainer. Some of 
the things I care most about are of no consequence to 
Leonard. Honestly, I do not think we are the two 
people to work out a life plan together.’’ 

Millicent looked unconvinced. 

“There’s something about Tessy — I don’t think I 
can quite describe it. I do not understand spiritual 
chemistry or component parts of heart and mind. 
Tessy has no trouble about growth and symmetry; 
she just unfolds, like a rose in blooming, and gives 
out her sweetness to everyone. I do not mean that 
she is devoid of discrimination. But she seems 
always to know just what to do, as if there were some 
unseen harmony within her, and she seldom makes 
a discord. She is beautiful to watch. It always 
rests you.” 

“Bertram said something similar about her. I half 
accused him of being in love with her.” 

Millicent blushed as she said this, and then Dell 
colored vividly. 


284 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“You talked it over with him!” 

“Len did, a little. He is desperately in earnest. 
Oh, my dear, if he had been that way about Miss 
Garcia! I tremble to even imagine the consequences. 
And Bertram thinks it a good thing for Len to be 
so fearlessly in earnest — though he has been quite 
patient for such a headstrong, imperious fellow; wait- 
ing the three months.” 

Millicent made a long pause and sat toying with 
her teaspoon. 

“Is anything decided upon?” Dell ventured rather 
timidly. 

“Leonard had permission to write to her. Other- 
wise I believe he would have gone out to California, 
perhaps married her at once. Of course — and this 
we must all be thankful about — there is nothing 
objectionable in her family. It even has the flavor of 
antiquity. And though we are no great sticklers for 
wealth — to-day I suppose Mr. Murray is really richer 
than papa. They have no vulgarities. They live in 
their lovely surroundings as if they had been born in 
them. Mrs. Murray used to be a little afraid of 
grandeur, I think,” and Millicent smiled, “but she 
has grown used to it. What Con and the children 
like is the needful thing, and she accustoms herself to 
it at once. Papa will take it quite comfortably. It 
isn’t as if it put you out of our lives.” 

She came around and took Dell in her arms. 

Yes, if it could have been so; if it had been 
ordained from the beginning! Dell could see the 
happiness on both sides of her; could she be content 
to remain in the middle and have them both giving 
out bits of their joy for her own share? She set her 
lips steadily. 


COMP Lie A TIONS. 


285 


“Dear me!” began Milly, with a tremulous laugh 
to break the tense feeling, “engagements bring about 
a great stir and excitement. I thought boys were no 
special anxiety. Next we will be worrying about 
Ned. And I wonder if I shall ever be a careful 
mother, ‘preaching down my daughter’s heart’?” 

Ethel came home from her reception, resplendent 
in gray velvet and black lace, and with a word of 
enthusiastic greeting swept into the room. 

“Upon my word, Milly, you have stolen a fine 
march upon us all! I must congratulate you. The 
romances of life seem to fall to your share, while the 
rest of us have to keep to common, everyday prose. 
Some of the ‘stars’ are coming to bid you welcome 
to-morrow, so be prepared to do your best, and give 
credit to your native State. I am going out with Mr. 
Longworth to dine, and then to amusicale — charity,” 
and she laughed daintily. “Dell, see that Milly is 
made comfortable, and go to bed early, both of you. 
We will have our chat over the breakfast table.” 

Millicent smiled as she rustled through the hall and 
summoned her maid. 

‘‘Leonard said Ethel lived in her surroundings. 
She seems to thrive upon it.” 

“I can’t see how she does so much,” Dell almost 
groaned, so intense was the tone. “And the good of 
it, after it is done ! But you must go and see Aunt 
Lepage. She is a bundle of sensitive nerves, and very 
exigent.” 

The tone amused Millicent. 

“Then I will see if we can’t have a little dinner in 
the breakfast room with no state or fuss. After that, 
comfort,” declared Lyndell. 

The call was made and Aunt Lepage said a good 


286 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


many gracious and ungracious things, but Millicent 
took them all cheerfully. 

They were not to spend the evening alone, however. 
Leonard came in and asked that Miss Sherburne might 
be summoned. 

“I am going to bore you only a few minutes,” 
he began, “and poor Milly is tired to death of the 
talk. What a breeze it is going to make ! Con, junior, 
has sailed from Japan, will touch at Hawaii, and reach 
San Francisco sometime, and bring Tessy home with 
him. Meanwhile, letters and an infinitude of patience, 
which I never was famous for. And when you girls 
go home I shall accompany you and explain the matter 
to father and Aunt Aurelia. She will be the most 
disappointed. Oh, Dell! I hope this is not going to 
make it any harder for you! But if you wouldn’t 
have me ” 

There was a gay little sound, not quite a laugh. 

She could not altogether dismiss a haunting sense of 
shame. Whether she was glad she had tried and not 
succeeded, or with the sense of unconscious defeat, 
almost angry that she had tried at all, she could not 
decide. Leonard was happy and hopeful. This was 
the beginning of quite a new life. He shouldn’t look 
for any outside help, but just go on, and when the 
time came, he and Tessy would take up the future 
simply, not in any swell fashion, and live just for each 
other. 

How his eyes softened and deepened, and his voice 
dropped from key to key, taking on tones of richness 
and tender feeling! Had he ever cared for her like 
that? Oh, sad thought — what if she were incapable of 
inspiring such love! And how handsome he looked 
in his evening attire, smiling and declaring it was a f 


COM PLICA TIONS. 


287 


bore to go out, and that he was longing for a bird’s 
nest of his own and that sweet, dainty, delicious 
Tessy ! 

Millicent could not forbear smiling when she came 
back. But both were rather too sore to talk about the 
lovers, and there had been so many delightful and 
entertaining episodes in her visit. There was a cer- 
tain dignified assurance that sat gracefully upon her. 
She had been learning her own powers. Her grace 
and beauty had attracted, it was true; her refinement 
and sweetness were great charms; but this newly 
found gift was no mere ephemeral sparkle. She had 
a place in the world of knowledge and culture to fill, 
and she accepted it with a grateful exultation. 

Mrs. Longworth made the most of her in a serene 
manner. There were old friends to give her a wel- 
come, who remembered her sudden engagement to the 
attractive young German; that she had lived in a 
castle, and had a title ; and had been widowed under 
very tragic circumstances. And now she had sur- 
prised everybody by a successful venture into author- 
ship. Her sweet Madonna face and her scarcely out- 
worn girlhood rendered her very attractive, and Ethel 
was fond of new attractions. In some ways she 
appeared more mature than Millicent, though she 
disdained none of the advantages of youth ! 

Yet both Milly and Lyndell were glad to get 
back to home quiet. True, Lent began and there 
was a slight cessation to the whirl of gayety. People 
were talking of Florida and Bermuda and Southern 
delights. 

“You look weary,” Aunt Julia said, as she kissed 
Dell. “Have you been dreadfully dissipated?” 

“I do not well know how we could have put in any 


288 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


more,” Dell answered brightly. “But Sherburne 
House looks good and restful.” 

Miss Garrick was eager to hear all about Millicent. 
Wouldn’t she come over and tell them the conclusion 
of the story? They felt as if they couldn’t wait month 
after month. And it was so wonderful, anyway, to be 
able to write; to enter into the experiences of others. 
She couldn’t have lived through all these things and 
known them of herself, though her life had been 
checkered — a favorite word of Cousin Garrick’s. 

“I have wondered a little what kept Milly so 
thoughtful and occupied for the last year,” Aunt Julia 
admitted. “She looks as if she ought to be a genius, 
although I believe they are not always as beautiful, ” 
smiling as she uttered the last. 

“It is such a lovely thing to reach out into other 
lives that way.” Dell sighed softly, wondering if she 
would ever reach out to the real delights in any way. 
She felt curiously depressed, almost as if she had 
unwittingly been counting on this love that had passed 
her by. 

“I thought Leonard would be over this morning,” 
Aunt Aurelia remarked, turning to Dell as they were 
going in to dinner. 

Dell flushed deeply and then dropped her eyes. 
She, too, had been waiting with that quiver of expect- 
ancy in every nerve. 

“He was not going back immediately?” 

“Oh, no!” 

“My dear, I hope you have not — had any differ- 
ences?” She would not call them disputes. 

“No, not that way.” Dell’s voice had a tremble 
in it, and she hurried on. Julius bowed them in, and 
there was no chance for further questioning. 


COM PLICA TIONS, 


289 


It had not been fair during the morning, but now 
the sky grew thick and the east wind presaged a 
storm. It was not fit to go out, even if she had cared 
to. The two elder ladies retired to their after-dinner 
nap. Aunt Julia was busy superintending some sew- 
ing. Dell went to her room, but Philly had unpacked 
her trunk and put her things away in the nicest 
order. What should she do? 

Oh, what did people do fifty or sixty years? And 
she had lived hardly twenty-one. Would she go on 
and on, taking journeys, having visitors, looking after 
the house a little when Aunt Julia went away, paint- 
ing a plaque or a bit of scenery for a gift, writ- 
ing letters, reading — well, studying, perhaps? What 
was the use of wide and comprehensive knowledge 
here? 

If Millicent would stay! But some time that 
dearest of all calls would come to her. She, too, was 
certain to make another blessed center; a broad, 
delightful place where people would be glad to come. 
There would be no narrowness or selfishness in Dr. 
Bertram’s life. They two would ask her in, and offer 
her the fruit of their garden. 

Just in the drizzling little rain Leonard rode up to 
the door. She did not run down, though his coming 
broke the tense strain. She poked her fire and put on 
two or three hemlock sticks to change the gray look, 
fanning them to a blaze. Was that Philly coming for 
her? 

The footstep passed along the hall. She dropped 
into her pretty, low rocker, and swayed slowly back 
and forth, watching the leaping flames and listening to 
the pleasant crackle. How long was it? The flames 
died down. She walked to the window, Duke still 


290 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

Stood there with the light blanket thrown over him, 
now and then pawing the path impatiently. 

The tall figure came out, sprang into the saddle, 
and galloped away. Dell went back to her rock- 
ing chair, stirring the fire again. The darkness came 
early to-night. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


“you will have me.” 

T here was a soft tap at Lyndell’s door. It had 
not been Aunt Julia’s step — perhaps it was Philly, 
with some wood. 

“Come!” she answered, in a gentle tone, but did 
not glance around until the step was just back of her, 
and the figure made a shadow. 

Then she sprang up. “Oh, Aunt Aurelia!” she 
cried, in surprise. 

The arms opened to her. She laid her cheek on 
the elder woman’s shoulder, while her young arms 
clasped the trembling frame. For some time neither 
spoke, then Dell said caressingly, corpfortingly : 

“Dear Aunt Aurelia!” 

“Did you know that Leonard came?” 

“Yes.” Then Dell drew up the high-backed easy- 
chair, with its pretty silken cushions she and Milly. 
had manufactured with such pride. She placed Aunt 
Aurelia in it — by her own fireside, too, odd thought — 
and drew up her own chair so close that she could 
lean over on the other’s shoulder. She took the hand 
in hers. 

“My dear, you knew what Leonard had to tell 
me?” 

The voice shook with the very effort to keep it 
steady. It had the sound and weakness that betray 
coming age. 


292 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

“Yes, he told me in Washington. He came down 
to see his father. Oh, are you bitterly disappointed?’' 

“Couldn’t you have loved him, Lyndell?’’ 

At the moment Dell was sorry things had gone other- 
wise. The girl’s desire to please them all swept over 
her again. Then she gave thanks that it was out of 
her power. 

“I think it was a good deal of trying on both sides.’’ 
Her own voice was a trifle tremulous. 

“My dear, women have forgiven worse things than 
that mistake with Miss Garcia.” 

“I forgave him. I do not think he was to blame 
for anything deeper than thoughtlessness. I was angry 
at first, but I soon came back to the old regard. I 
did not really feel as indignant as a girl in love should 
have felt. Last spring, the day he brought me home 
for the funeral, we talked it over. Since then, at least 
for a while, he honestly tried to love me, I do believe. 
And I did try to love him.’’ 

“Then I do not see’’ — with a great puzzle in the 
tone. 

“The divine something that makes a true and per- 
fect love did not meet in us. I suppose God must 
have meant it to be that way, since both were willing 
to try. And I wanted to give him Sherburne House.” 

Aunt Aurelia gave a long sigh that seemed to come 
over tears. 

“I have hoped you would both be here. I felt 
quite certain this winter. But I have no desire to 
make you unhappy. I have come to love you very 
much. And it may be a just punishment for my 
unwillingness to give you your just rights. In those 
days I would gladly have crowded you out for him. 
And now he leaves us both!” 


“FOt/ WILL HAVE ME. 


293 


“No, he will never leave us unless we send him 
away. I think he will love us better as time goes on. 
His manhood will be richer, truer. You have all 
said he was growing like his father. And will it be 
quite impossible to love Tessy in the new relation?” 

There was a little silence. “We all liked her,” the 
elder woman said tentatively, as if afraid of admitting 
too much in the beginning. 

‘‘And Leonard loves her very much. But I know 
she will not come to him without a heartfelt welcome 
from us all. She hesitated even before he had 
spoken. And Mr. Murray did not consent easily.” 

“Child, I do not suppose anyone will oppose it,” 
Miss Sherburne returned, with some petulance. ‘‘It 
would be of no avail. And we have all had one bitter 
lesson. No, no! let them be happy in their own way. 
I wish I had said as much for your father.” 

She was crying then. 

Was there a curious sort of retribution in it? Dell 
thought so only an instant; her generous nature dis- 
missed the idea before it had time to root itself. 

“Dear Aunt Aurelia, you will have me always, I 
think. I am afraid I lack something that wins 
love ” 

“No, no, child, you do not. It is not your fault 
he is blind. You are worth dozens of Tessy 
Murrays.” 

That was an ebullition of temper. 

“Am I worth so much to you? I confess I should 
not like to be crowded out of everyone’s heart, even 
by my dearest friend. ” 

She kissed the soft, wrinkled cheek. 

“I put you in your father’s place. He was like an 
own child to me. No one can crowd you out. But 


294 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

I want you to be happy, to have some joys of your 
very own. I had a great many things. I was mother 
to my brother’s children, and he needed me. But 
you stand so alone.” 

“Then we will call in the children’s children,” and 
Dell laughed with rare tenderness. “You and I — 
and we might take in Cousin Carrick.” 

“Leonard spoke of it at Christmas.” 

“And Tessy proposed or rather suggested it last 
summer. That is a funny coincidence! We were 
speaking of her lonely lot when Miss Maria would have 
gone. Yes, let us keep her.” 

“Two old women. You had better find some 
more.” 

Aunt Aurelia’s tone had a touch of amusement in 
it that was curiously cheering. 

“Well, I will see. However, we shall not be lone- 
some. And we will let Aunt Julia go down to Fort- 
ress Monroe every little while to cheer Uncle Dick. 
Oh, you will find that we shall get along very nicely. 
And you will not hold hard thoughts of Leonard?” 

“He has disappointed me.” 

“But he is doing so well, and in the face of a 
great many temptations. There are so much drinking 
and gambling, everyone says. He is admired so 
warmly on every hand! You really should see him in 
society. And I honor him that he has the good sense 
to chose a swe^et, domestic woman who will never think 
children a trouble, and who will swing before him con- 
tinually the censer of love. He will be very happy.” 
Dell’s voice seemed to have a smile in it. 

Aunt Aurelia gave a little sound of half disdain. 

“My dear,” after a while, “if he had treated you 
badly in ever so slight a degree I never should have 


“FOi/ WILL HAVE ME: 


295 


forgiven him. But you do not love him in that 
fashion, or you would be a little hurt by his prefer- 
ence, and the fact of being supplanted” — by your 
friend, she was about to say, but checked herself. 

“No, Aunt Aurelia, I do not think Tessy sup- 
planted me. She couldn’t help seeing that Leonard 
was unusually attractive. And she and Mr. Murray 
both advised him to take me. Perhaps I’ve been 
thrown at him too much.” 

She gave a sweet, heartsome laugh. 

‘‘There are others who would be glad of the oppor- 
tunity,” Aunt Aurelia declared, in high disdain. 

A knock roused them. Philly came in. 

‘‘Here’s your lamp. Miss Dell; and Miss Stanwood 
wants to know if you’ve seen Miss Sherburne? She’s 
mighty ’feared — oh!” and Philly paused and stared. 
‘‘They’ve been lookin’ for you high and low.” 

‘‘I am glad I am of so much account,” said Miss 
Sherburne dryly. 

‘‘They were waitin’ to ring the supper bell.” 

‘‘Go down and ring it, then.” 

Miss Sherburne paused and took Dell in a fond 
embrace. Were there tears as well as kisses? 

Dell was very bright all supper time, and afterward 
entertained Miss Eliza with descriptions of some of the 
grand “functions,” and a reception at the White 
House; the beautiful gowns, and the splendid tables 
with their glitter of plate and fragrance of flowers. 
She was not at all unhappy.. She had found a work 
of love. And Leonard’s announcement had not 
brought as much consternation as she expected. 

She went to Beaumanoir the next afternoon. The 
rain had softened to little showers, and made all the 
air sweet with hints and odors of spring. Dell drew 


296 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE, 


in long, revivifying breaths, and her pulses were all 
astir with new life. 

Milly had a severe headache and was in bed. Aunt 
Beaumanoir was alone in the library. 

“Oh, my dear!” she cried; “we wanted you so! 
We are heartbroken over this dreadful business! But 
you can’t reason with Leonard. And when one 
thinks of all you have been to him ! The only 
redeeming feature in it is that he has counted on Sher- 
burne House, I am afraid, and now he has given it up 
grandly. But Dell, you will always be like an own 
child to us. And Aunt Aurelia must be bitterly dis- 
appointed ! ’ ’ 

“She takes it better than I feared. Oh, Aunt 
Beaumanoir, think that it is for Leonard’s happiness!” 

“Dell Sherburne, the man who could not be happy 
with you ought not be happy at all.” 

Dell laughed with a kind of tender gayety. Then 
Aunt Beaumanoir smiled and sent her up to Milly. 
She could not talk about it. 

“Len deserves a good deal of credit for his 
bravery,” Millicent said. “He was very gentle, too. 
Of course there is nothing but to make the best of it, 
and since it isn’t very bad — the greatest disappoint- 
ment lies in another direction. But we shall keep 
you.” 

“I am glad to be kept. And you will all like 
Tessy.” 

“He thinks her an angel. I never expected him to 
be so enthusiastic. And do you remember the little 
‘flare’ he and Bertram had about the Murrays when 
Bert was down here? I thought it odd.” 

“You have never seen him really in love,” Dell 
returned gravely. 


WILL HAVE ME.'^ 297 

“We seem to have fallen upon episodes of love-mak- 
ing. It will be your turn next.” 

“I am going to wait a while. I won’t come in at 
the fag end,” with a pretty show of petulance. 
“Violet, Alice, and Tessy. That is enough for one 
season. I want all the glories to myself.” 

“There will be plenty of time,” said Millicent. 

‘ ‘And, Dell, there are so many things we shall enjoy 
together. I wished for you so in New York. There 
was much in the bright talk to bring out the best of 
one. Yet I couldn’t help thinking that some of the 
great truths and new ideas they seemed to discover 
were bits of the old truths Dr. Carew and dear Miss 
Neale have always been living out grandly. And I 
saw a little of what papa is so afraid: that women will 
squander their mental riches in a sort of riotous living, 
and have nothing for sure rest and refreshing when 
night and trouble come, and disappointments sweep 
away some precious dreams. The old ways have much 
good and loveliness in them, and wives and mothers 
ought to be capable of standing at the head and doing 
noble work for the world. But their best efforts may 
be in their children’s development. Perhaps we may 
never find anything better than love. I have made 
some delightful new friends, and we will enjoy them 
together. We will try to get a little of our ideal life.” 

“It is lovely in you to include me,” Dell replied, 
with emotion. 

“I feel now quite as if you belonged to me. It is 
odd how we have transferred you to Leonard. I am 
afraid in certain ways you would have outgrown him. 
He isn’t what you would call an intellectual man, and 
he is not going to be a broad man, excepting on certain 
lines. Intellectuality doesn’t always mean happiness. 


298 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

It often brings unrest and dissatisfaction — that grasp- 
ing at vague things afar off, while the real things and 
absolute truths are near by. And perhaps he will be 
just as happy. But it seems to be a violent turn-over 
everywhere, and I am rather chaotic.” 

“You must not talk any more, with your headache. 
Can’t I read to you?” 

“There are two or three volumes of poems — new 
books of the winter — that are sweet and comforting. 
I have often thought how much pleasure three or four 
simple verses sometimes give one in a depressed 
moment, when you would not feel equal to any great 
effort of thought. I like the term ‘minor poets.’ It 
suggests minor music, twilight music, ‘when the cares 
of the day are done’.” 

Dell glanced them over and selected one that 
seemed as if the author had been going over flowery 
meads and bosky dells, and culled here and there a 
handful of flowers. 

She bathed Millicent’s head with some fragrant 
water, and settling herself in an easy-chair, skimmed 
from one bit of verse to another, until she found her 
time had expired. 

“Dell, have you ever realized what a beautiful, 
flexible voice you have? It seems so to enter into the 
very heart of things when you read.’’ 

“Thank you.’’ She bent and kissed her cousin 
with a gratified light in her eyes. “I am glad I have 
one charm. I may have to go from ‘land to land,’ 
like the ‘Ancient Mariner,’ and tell my story,’’ 
laughingly. 

“My headache is all gone. I must get up and 
comfort papa a little. Dell, you must be more of a 
daughter than ever.’’ 


“FOC/ WILL HAVE MEr 299 

Going slowly homeward, she was thinking about 
Tessy. She had not said much in her behalf, for she 
knew Leonard must have been extravagant in her 
praise. How much did Tessy love him? Would she 
love him as well when she came to see more of him, 
came to know all the little foibles and selfishness? 
Yes, he was selfish. He wanted a good deal, and he 
was not given to thinking whether other people had 
much or little. Suppose presently she should be 
disenchanted? 

Lyndell shuddered at that. 

Miss Garrick was pacing up and down the porch 
with a wistful kind of light in her eyes. 

“It is lovely, isn’t it?’’ she said. ‘T wanted ’Relia 
to go out, but she didn’t feel like it. There is not 
much pleasure going alone. You can stand it for 
errands and business. You see. I’ve never really 
been alone, as one may say.’’ 

“Come out with me, then,’’ and Dell made room 
in the phaeton. 

“But you have been out.’’ 

“I am ready to go again,’’ smilingly. 

She looked uncertain, then desirous, and went for 
her bonnet. 

“ ’Relia feels quite done up. Your uncle was over. 
Julia told me ’’ 

She studied Dell with a minuteness that brought 
a flush to the girl’s cheek, who looked away as she 
turned Bonny, instead of going around the drive. 

“It seems an awful surprise,’’ began Miss Garrick. 
“Of course we had all settled to it, though why you 
should be expected to make Leonard a clear out-and- 
^ out present of Sherburne House, unless you did want 
to marry him!” She paused and drew in her breath 


300 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


as if to settle her confused sentence. “He is a splen- 
did young fellow, and it is queer that little Murray 
girl should get him — now, isn’t it?’’ 

“He doesn’t quite know whether she will take him, 
after all,’’ said Dell, rather nettled. “She would not 
in December.’’ 

“Well, now!’’ Miss Garrick seemed utterly amazed, 
and looked at Dell in a helpless way. “Seems to 
me as if any girl might be proud ‘to take Len Beau- 
manoir.’’ 

“Tessy Murray has had several admirers. A year 
ago a young man was very much in love with her. 
His father was a great railroad man and had a fortune 
up in the millions. And I shouldn’t wonder if some 
California nabob had fallen in love with her. She is 
so sweet and pretty and winsome.” 

“She is all that. Maria and I liked her so much. 
We talked afterward — if Fred had only had two or 
three girls and one of them would have come to us. 
But I thought ever so long ago — not that their being 
Irish would ever trouble me. We’ve always been 
proud of our Irish blood. I have an old miniature, 
most faded out now, of a daughter of one of the Dukes 
of Garrick, who married and came over here, and 
made her husband keep the name. It’s two hundred 
or so years old. And then some Garrick cousin came 
out and her daughter married him. Our mother was 
a Sherburne, your great-grandfather’s sister. And 
we’ve French and English blood. So long as it’s 
good and honorable it can’t matter what nation it 
belongs to. And our people marry foreigners and 
give them their money, if they happen to have a title, 
where sometimes they are not as good as ordinary 
people.” 


'^YOU WILL HAVE ME. 


301 


“I hope everybody will love Tessy for my sake as 
well as Leonard’s. When I think how good the 
Murrays were to me — and my own mamma might 
have been mistaken about the will, you know. Or if 
no one from Sherburne had looked me up, I should 
always have been treated as their very own. Mr. 
Murray never would take any compensation for those 
years of care ; and if I were there, I should share 
everything with Tessy, journeys and all. So I am 
desirous of sharing something with her, you see,” and 
Dell gave a winsome smile. 

“You have a big heart, my dear.” 

“But they loved and cared for me first.” 

Miss Garrick thought of the greater love that had 
“loved first,” and her heart warmed to them all in 
that moment. Dell certainly wasn’t disappointed. 
She had never looked sweeter nor happier. But she 
couldn’t understand Leonard giving up so great an 
heiress as his cousin. 

“I have a warm place in my heart for Len, and 
I certainly shall love his wife, if she makes him 
happy,” the lady said. 

“As she surely will,” appended Dell. 

“And she’s a pretty little thing! Only you two 
would have made such a splendid-looking couple,” 
with a touch of regret in her tone. 

When she saw Uncle Beaumanoir the next day he 
took her in his arms and held her some minutes 
in wordless tenderness. . Then he kissed her with 
fatherly kisses, and she knew how infinitely dear she 
was to him. 

Then a long letter came from Leonard, detailing 
some of the incidents of his announcement to his 
parenTts. 


302 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE, 

“I don’t know why anyone should want to really 
persecute you into marrying me, or insist that / 
should wring a mere cousinly consent from you and 
be satisfied with it. Dell, your fortune might tempt 
any man, and I am mortified and ashamed that I should 
ever have set my heart on Sherburne House. You 
know I am a better fellow for giving it up. Still, 
there were times when I did love you dearly, and you 
could have made me a rapturous, enthusiastic lover. 
But few men, I think, love long against the tide. 
Not that the tide was such a swift-flowing one with 
Tessy, save for a brief hour or two. But I knew then 
what it was to conquer a woman’s whole soul. I 
think, if I became the veriest scoundrel on earth, 
Tessy would love me still, even if she would not marry 
me. And I am beginning to think, in a country like 
ours, to be honest and upright and to have no family 
disgrace and no vulgarities is to be well born. There 
are men here, in Washington who have made every 
shift to get along and struck a streak of luck, as we call 
it, that has lifted them up to the topmost round, who 
are ostentatious, purse-proud, uneducated, and care 
little for true refinement. Still they are received in 
society, and often courted for the power they wield. 
Mr. Murray is a courteous, kindly, quiet gentleman, 
who is giving his children the best advantages, yet not 
being foolish with them. Con is a fine, ambitious 
fellow that will make his mark in the world and be 
welcomed anywhere. James is going to do some good 
work, and his father can put a fortune in his way. 
Morna is picturesque enough to marry a prince, if we 
had any American princes, and I only hope the others 
won’t grow up too fast. As for Tessy, I could fill 
pages with her sweet perfections, but you know them 


“KOC/ WILL HAVE ME: 


303 


all. Her gentleness will temper my too lordly ways 
that Violet used to talk about. She can yield her will 
sweetly when duty requires, but she is not weak or 
silly. She can entertain in the most charming manner, 
and be the delight of a crowd of children. I went to 
see them on South Bay last summer, and I thought 
then she was one of the loveliest daughters and sisters 
I had ever met, and all my life has been passed with 
superior ones, as you well know. Oh, Dell! how good 
you three girls have been to me! And I wonder just 
here if in that delightful summer in Germany you 
could have loved that enthusiastic young Baron Zahn, 
if I had not played the jealous ogre? Dell, you must 
have many things to forgive!” 

There was much more. Dell smiled over it, and 
yet a strange sadness diffused itself through her very 
soul. She was not so different from her kind, but 
what she had dreamed of losing herself in a love like 
this. But if it never came to her! 

Human nature usually adapts itself to the inevitable 
in well-disciplined minds. Perhaps they accepted 
Leonard’s decision the sooner, remembering the sad 
ending of Edward Sherburne’s romance, that forgive- 
ness might have restored to a long and happy life. 
Leonard had shown more courage and decision, and 
certainly Miss Murray had a standing of her own. 

Had they all something to make up to Lyndell? It 
seemed so. Everyone was solicitous about her pleas- 
ures and happiness. They began to talk of a grand 
birthday party at Sherburne House when she attained 
her majority. 

“I wish it was a year away. Aunt Aurelia,” she 
said emphatically. ‘‘I feel sometimes like a little girl 


304 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


who ought to be scolded for wayward moods, and 
remain under ‘governors, teachers, and masters.’ I 
don’t want to be Miss Sherburne of Sherburne House, 
I told Mr. Whittingham so the other day, and begged 
him and Uncle Beaumanoir to go on just the same. 
But he said they could only be trustees. I hope you 
told him you did not want to be relieved of any 
care?” 

“Indeed, my child, I said most decisively that I did. 
I used to be fond of business and proud of my ability, 
but through the accident your uncle would not allow 
me to trouble about it. There is still a good deal to 
do for the negroes, and it needs a man now to keep 
everything in shape, and see that they really care for 
the ground they rent, and are sober and industrious, 
even in their fashion. But I want to give it all up. 
And it is too much care for your youth. So it will be 
a good thing for your uncle to take the whole charge.” 

Dell had never “interfered,” but she had made a 
more generous allowance for the school, and many a 
small gift had gladdened a cabin fireside. But she had 
learned her highest and best wisdom from Miss Neale, 
that patient supervision was the wisest generosity. 

‘‘A birthday party,” she said, in a kind of imper- 
sonal manner. 

‘‘You have never had a real party for your own self. 
Something has been happening all the time. Aunt 
Julia was speaking of it. And you have been 
away ” 

“I must make up my mind to stay at home now, as 
a person of some consequence.” Her brave, sweet 
eyes smiled down on Aunt Aurelia as she was stand- 
ing by her chair. 

‘‘My dear, you can have only one youth. And it is 


^^YOCr WILL HAVE ME. 


305 


right to lay up treasures of remembrance for later 
years.” She dropped into a half absent thought for 
some seconds. 

“Oh, the party!” she said, rousing. “Milly was 
over while you were at the doctor’s yesterday. She 
and Aunt Julia discussed various arrangements. It 
must be in the daytime, for Mr. Whittingham seldom 
goes out in the evening.” 

“An outdoors fete!” cried Dell, with sudden 
delight. “The 20th of April. Everything will be 
enchanting, unless a cold spell comes to spoil it all. 
But the house will be large enough. Oh, whom will 
we get to fill it?” 

“We must ask — everybody.” 

Then Aunt Aurelia gave a short, embarrassed laugh. 
There were so few of Dell’s individual friends. 

“All the neighborhood, yes. And the Baltimore 
relatives with the other Miss Sherburne. But we can’t 
have Violet and Mr. Amory; and Alice is so far 
away. ’ ’ 

“Wasn’t there something about Mr. Osborne 
coming?” 

“Oh, there was a suggestion of business in May or 
J une — a flying trip. I mean to write at once and see. ’ ’ 

Dell was toying with the soft hair growing snowy 
white very fast now. The little square of fine lace 
always looked so pretty and delicate. 

Aunt Aurelia reached up and took the firm young 
hand with its eager, buoyant pulses. 

“Is there no one else you would like? It is your 
house, you know.” 

The voice was hesitating, but suggestive of some 
favor that might be granted. It had an inquiring 
accent. 


3 o 6 a SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

“Oh, Aunt Aurelia, you don’t mean — do you think 
I might — include the Murrays?’' 

Then Dell trembled at her own half hope. 

“My dear child, the awkwardness must be sur- 
mounted somehow. Under other circumstances there 
would not be any. Tessy has been here, and Mr. 
Murray came that first time, you remember!’’ 

That old glad time, when it seemed as if the whole 
heavens had opened and were showering blessings 
down upon her! Ah, yes! she could never forget 
that! 

“If Mr. and Mrs. Murray and some of the older 
children would come? They would be your guests, 
and could meet your aunt and uncle. Nothing need 
be said about the recent occurrence.’’ 

She stumbled a little over that. 

“Oh, Aunt Aurelia! it would be splendid— if no 
one would feel — that I had taken a great liberty.’’ 

“You are the only one who can take it. Millicent 
could not invite them to Beaumanoir. And when 
the ice is really broken ^’’ 

“It is lovely in you to think of it. Oh, can I? 
Dare I?’’ and her voice was tremulous with joy. 

“Ask Millicent — and write to Leonard. My dear, 
when one is nearing threescore and ten one is apt to 
dwell more on ‘the things that make for peace.’ 
Someone must take a step toward the other side, and 
others will follow. It would be very pointed to leave 
them out. But give it to Milly as your own sug- 
gestion.’’ 

“Con and Tessy are expected home early in April.’’ 

“You have not much time to waste.’’ 

“I think I will go over and see Milly.’’ 

She kissed Aunt Aurelia and ordered out Bonny. 


“FC>C/ WILL HAVE ME." 

Milly was in her pretty study, that had been the 
nursery. But now Miss Nora was promoted to a 
room of her own, adjoining her mother’s. It was so 
beautifully appointed that Dell declared anyone ought 
to be able to write stories in it. Milly had made no 
rigid rules. She had been her father’s companion so 
much since Violet’s marriage, and he had a rather 
grudging suspicion that this new delight and occupa- 
tion would take her from him; yet he was begin- 
ning to be quite proud of her gift, when he realized its 
power for pleasure. 

“Oh, you are busy!’’ cried Dell. “I have not 
come to distract your ideas, unless — well, it is a con- 
sultation,’’ smiling a little. “We have been discuss- 
ing a grand birthday party.’’ 

“Yes? Papa thinks it admirable. Oh, Dell! it 
seems only such a brief while ago you were a sick 
little girl at Dr. Carew’s.” 

The bright tears flashed to Dell’s eyes. 

“Everybody has been laid under contribution to 
me. I must give back seven years’ service.’’ 

Milly laughed at that. 

Then Dell preferred her request. Her cousin 
colored with a curious rush of feeling, but satisfaction 
predominated. 

‘ T think it will be — very nice is rather tame, but it is 
hard to find just the word. Of course the matter must 
be gotten over with, no painful places in it to remem- 
ber. Personally there can be no objection to Tessy 
Murray. She is sweet, pretty, well-bred, and I am 
sure she has had enough admiration to turn any weak 
mind. Hers does not seem turned at all. We shall 
never feel afraid of little blunders or those annoying 
ignorances on her part that you often find in the 


3o8 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


rather new people. I can’t imagine Leonard choos- 
ing such a wife out of all the world of girls, and yet 
she may be just the one for him. I know we shall all 
come to love her dearly. ’ ’ 

It was sensible and good, but Dell longed for more 
enthusiasm. She was a little hurt. 

“It is very noble and generous in you and Aunt 
Aurelia to take the onus of it. We could go up to 
New York and see them. Mamma half proposed 
that.” 

“Oh!” cried Dell, her eyes almost shining with 
tears. 

“Mamma is anxious to see the other mother. Do 
you think she could be persuaded to come, Dell?” 

“I am going to ask as many as can or will come. 
I once threatened to have the whole crowd at Sher- 
burne House.” The young girl laughed a little with 
something between joy and tears at the old remem- 
brance — the daring threat, as it was then — that had 
served to keep her courage alive. 

“And that will be lovely and gracious toward us. 
My dear Dell, we shall appreciate this opportunity 
more truly than any words of mine can persuade 
you now. You know I admired them all years ago, 
and we have taken Tessy into our circle. It is only 
the strangeness of it, the ” 

Millicent hesitated and flushed deeply. Dell turned 
scarlet as well, almost in vexation. 

“Dear Dell, forgive us all. You can’t quite 
understand ” 

“I think I do understand,” Dell began, with secret 
indignation. She did not want to be angry with 
Millicent, with any of them. But there was a certain 
pride of birth hard to overcome. Someone would no 


''YOU WILL HAVE ME. 


309 


doubt remember Mr. Murray’s humble beginnings. 
But if Leonard did not care, and if Aunt Aurelia 
could accept it gracefully 

Millicent sprang up and caught Dell’s hands. 

“You are making a mistake,” she cried earnestly. 
”I don’t know that we could give the Murray family 
the standing in the neighborhood that we would like. 
You see yourself they would not come to us. And 
this is why it is doubly gracious for you to ask them 
on your birthday. It doesn’t confess or admit any- 
thing, but if anyone chooses to surmise” — she was 
smiling faintly. ‘‘Of course,” she resumed in a 
moment or two, as Dell remained speechless, ‘‘we have 
a good deal of pride of birth. We made you suffer 
from it, and I shall always be glad we came to love 
you so well before we knew of your grand relatives. 
I suppose if Mr. Murray had come over in 1600, he 
would belong to the best old families in the land. 
But with us it is not money merely; some of our 
old families are very poor. Some of the best old 
families in New York have been pushed to the wall 
and dropped out, because they could not compete 
with wealth thrusting itself in everywhere. And it 
has been no drawback to many of our eminent men 
that they have come up from the ranks. You see” — 
she colored with embarrassment — “our efforts would 
be considered as making the best of it ; yours are the 
result of a lovely friendship.” 

Dell began to look less austere. There was some 
truth in all this. And she had learned a good deal 
about certain unwritten codes and beliefs that society 
accepted, promulgated — and sometimes turned around 
and defied them. 

“Leonard’s wife would receive a warm welcome 


310 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


from us, you know, Dell. Why, we should even have 
taken in that little waif of fortune, Anita Garcia, if 
Leonard had loved her; taken her in and educated 
her, and made the most of her. There is nothing to 
do for Tessy but just love her and give her the right- 
ful place among us. She will be dear to us because 
she was your friend, and if, sometimes, we sigh a little 

over the girl we should have liked in her place 

Oh, Dell! tell me again solemnly that you never could 
have loved Leonard in a wifely manner, even if he 
had waited years ” 

“Set your heart entirely at rest, Milly.” She was 
smiling now, though tears stood in her eyes. She 
realized part of their objection had come from a jeal- 
ous love for her, from the desire to have her among 
them in a nearer and tenderer tie. “I think I shall 
love Leonard jpetter for his courage in loving and 
waiting, and, yes — persisting.” 

“It did not require much courage to love a pretty 
and charming girl, whom you almost kno'^^dll adore 
you when the right time comes. I only hope she 
won’t allow him to degenerate into a tyrant. And if 

they are very happy Come, let us find mamma 

and tell her of the plan,” Millicent finished abruptly. 

“But your writing, your train of thought that I 
interrupted?” 

“That can be summoned another time. At all 
events, it has vanished now. Dell, do you know, we 
have been dangerously near a difference? But when 
you feel hurt, — if you ever do again, — think of our loss 
and how hard it is to put a new face in the frame that 
years and love have hallowed.” 

She clasped Dell in a tender embrace, and they 
went to Mrs. Beaumanoir’s room. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 

M rs. BEAUMANOIR did more than merely give 
the plan her warmest approval and express her 
delight to Dell. Leonard announced that the travelers 
had returned. He had gone at once to New York 
and interviewed everybody but Tessy that first even- 
ing. She had been very glad to plead fatigue and 
retire to bed. 

Con’s astonishment knew no bounds. To be asked 
to accept this handsome, aristocratic young man as his 
brother-in-law almost deprived him oft breath. And 
Mrs. Murray, sweet soul, thought that if Tessy loved 
him, and ^erybody at Beaumanoir and Sherburne 
House consented, it was all right. 

“They will give their assent,” said Leonard. 
“Consent is simply between Tessy and myself.” 

Mr. Murray shook his head. “I must be assured 
that nothing will ever be said or done to wound her. 
She has an enthusiastic friend in your cousifi.” 

“And in my sister, in everyone. Oh, indeed yon 
need never fear! Even if we have kept to some of 
the old theories,” and he laughed lightly. “But we 
modern young men,” glancing at Con, “understand 
the worth of the fine-line drawing, and that personal 
qualification and character are of more real importance 
in the great march of life than the bluest blood. 
Maybe you have judged us a good deal from the unfor- 
tunate beginning with my cousin. That was made 


3 ” 


312 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

possible from a series of misunderstandings, and my 
grandfather was a very proud man. But I chose 
Tessy because I loved her, and I do not know any 
man who has a right to be prouder of his family than 
you.” 

“Still, I can understand the feeling ” 

“That rightly belongs to the elders, to the people 
who live in a small round, like those of my own 
county, and I think they are outgrowing it. It is 
really no longer possible. We meet in Washington 
men of every degree, who have made their way up 
from nothing. Their sons and daughters are to be the 
aristocrats of the next generation,” and he smiled. 
“And I have come to consider the most honorable 
birth that of integrity, trustworthiness, and un- 
stained lineage. That is all I ask, and Miss Murray 
meets every requirement. You will find my father not 
unreasonable since these points are all satisfactory.” 

“And Miss Sherburne?” exclaimed Con, rather 
incredulously. “It is one thing to welcome Dell 
Sherburne’s friends, but quite another thing to marry 
among them.” 

“She is very fond of Tessy. Oh! you need not 
fear.” 

“She is a fine, strong woman. I shall always re- 
member and respect her manner of making amends,” 
declared Mr. Murray. “As you say, the beginning 
was unfortunate, but that is no reason why we should 
hold to it when it is past and forgiven. But we are 
proud as well. I shouldn’t want it said that my 
daughter came to Sherburne House — why, you were 
to marry your cousin ! ” 

“And she declined. Am I so very much to blame 
for that?” 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 313 

Leonard smiled ingenuously and looked extremely 
winning, as with rising color he glanced from one to 
the other. 

“One can never be quite sure of immunity from 
temptation. I think I have coveted Sherburne House. 
But when I came to love truly, with my whole soul, 
that did not stand in the way a moment. And if you 
know my cousin well, you will understand we are too 
near and too true friends ever to be anything nearer. 
It is my purpose to win Miss Murray if I have to wait 
years. But I ask the right to do it openly and honor- 
ably.” 

Could one refuse such a lover? Not when the hap- 
piness of his child was at stake. 

So Leonard Beaumanoir won the coveted permis- 
sion. And that evening he wrote a long letter to 
Dell. 

“I’ve had to fight hard,” he said. “The Murrays 
are quite as proud as we, but it may be considered as 
settled. I do not expect everyone to fall down and 
worship my little fairy princess at once, but I know 
she will win them all in the end.” 

“I can’t believe it! ’’ Con Murray said to his father. 
“If he wasn’t so frank and open about it; but that 
does stamp it as being in earnest. I suppose he could 
marry almost anyone, with that handsome face and 
winning tongue. It is a kind of poetical justice to 
have Tessy set there in the midst of all the great 
people. What does Carew say to it?” 

“Why, he thinks it the grandest step of the young 
man’s life, especially relinquishing Sherburne House.’’ 

Con gave a soft, prolonged whistle. 

“Well, they were mightily in love with Tessy out 
at Belmont, Mrs. Osborne and all of them. Strange, 


314 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

what a power a girl has! But I’m just dying to see 
Dell. Do you suppose she really wouldn’t have her 
cousin?” 

“Something happened between them. And I am 
not sure at all that Dell ever was in love with him. 
But I do know that little Tessy has given him her 
whole heart,’’ and the father sighed. 

But whatever they hesitated over was brought to 
a more definite conclusion a few days later by two 
letters: one a very considerate and motherly one 
from Mrs. Beaumanoir to Mrs. Murray, the other a 
glowing and urgent one from Lyndell, concerning the 
birthday plans. 

“The poor mother!’’ Mrs. Murray said, in a pity- 
ing tone that would have roused Mrs. Beaumanoir 
almost to indignation if she could have heard it. 
“The poor mother! I don’t wonder she feels 
anxious. Think if it was Con! We should like to 
know about the girl he was going to marry, and what 
her people were, and have them nice and respectable. 
But they have all seen Tessy. And though they were 
very grand years ago, don’t you think, Con, people 
soften like when they come to know each other 
better? I’m sure they have all grown lovely to Dell. 
And that beautiful Miss Milly! Oh, you remember 
how she came and told us about the poor little home- 
sick colleen after her long illness!’’ 

The tears were shining in Mrs. Murray’s eyes, and 
made them so exquisitely tender that a sight of her 
would have disarmed the last vestige of Millicent’s 
lingering pride. For they were proud with that fine 
family feeling that comes of a long line of honorable 
ancestry, of education and refinement. 

“We will have to give in,’’ Mr. Murray said, with a 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 315 

regret almost amusing. “The young man is bound 
to have Tessy, and she’s that deep in love with him 
it would take her years to get over it. There have 
been some other fine men, and do you know, I half 
hoped a while that it would be Dr. Carew. There’s 
so much breadth and tenderness and uprightness to 
him. Surely the father must be proud of such a 
son!’’ 

“As if we didn’t have Con and Jamsie, and there’s 
Lawrence, a fine lad, who declares he is going to be a 
doctor.’’ 

There was a touch of jealousy in her tone, but it 
was from overflowing mother love. 

“And what will we do about this birthday party? 
You will have to go, sure.’’ 

“Oh, Con! Among Lyndell’s great folks!’’ 

Mrs. Murray shrank in dismayed entreaty. 

“They’re no greater than many people you have 
been in the habit of meeting the last few years. And 
though the homes have that kind of old-world gran- 
deur and simplicity, there is more that’s showy on the 
very block with us. There are more pretentious 
manners and people around us every day, and we 
hardly give them a second thought, much less stand 
in awe of them. We are asking nothing of them, 
Densie, but to be let to live our own sweet, natural 
lives that are so much to us. It will be different with 
the children. They can’t help marching on a little 
higher ground, and I am trying to fit them for it, so 
that they may get the real good and wholesome pleasure 
out of life, and not be ashamed, when they come to 
die, of only having cumbered the ground instead of 
raising the sweet herbs of the soul to leave a fragrance 
behind. Let me read Dell’s letter over.’’ 


3 i 6 a SHERBURNE ROMANCE, 

She had made no mention of the engagement. It 
was the party. That day she should come into full 
possession of her father’s heritage, and she wanted 
her dearest friends to congratulate her, to be with 
her. She wished they could bring all the children, 
but surely Baby Densie, Morna, and Tessy, and all of 
the boys who had not forgotten her. Aunt Aurelia 
would be glad to give them the warmest welcome. 
Tessy had so many friends already among them. It 
was a very small return for all their goodness in the 
past, but Heaven had blessed them with so much pros- 
perity that all she could do was to remember grate- 
fully the time when she had come a stranger to their 
gates, and they had taken her in so cordially ; of the 
love and care they had given her dear mother. She 
could only offer them love for love, and beg them to 
come to her as frankly as she had always come to 
them. 

Con Murray winked his eyes very hard. Ah, he 
had been quite right when he told Miss Sherburne, 
out of his implicit faith in the child, that he could 
trust to her loyalty. Nothing had ever weakened it. 
He was proud of her love for them all, and to-day he 
felt prouder of his success in life, because it had kept 
them more within her sphere. Yet he understood 
even poverty would have been no bar to her. 

If only that handsome, beguiling, foolish young 
man had chosen elsewhere! One could not doubt 
his love, yet Constantine Murray was honestly sorry it 
had happened. The triumph of it had not a feather’s 
weight with him. 

Of course they must go. Con, junior, accepted bis 
invitation at once in a characteristic letter. He and 
Dell had kept up a very fragmentary correspondence 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 317 

during the last two years. He was so full of fun 
and adventure; he possessed such diverse gifts, devel- 
oped by the many-sided education, and shaped by 
keen discrimination and not a little natural wit. 

As for a profession, he was in no real hurry to 
decide. Civil engineering in its greater forms had 
attracted him ; chemical sciences had been another 
fascination, and this Dr. Carew had quite insisted 
upon his taking up in earnest; and now he had 
gone over to the mighty power of the press. He had 
great force of character and determination, he longed 
for influence and ability to take up the vital questions 
of the day. His quick insight, his ready humor, his 
sudden changes from grave to gay made him a charm- 
ing companion for men older than himself, while his 
native good sense and modesty kept him from aggres- 
siveness. 

Morna was quite delighted. She bid fair to uphold 
the family dignity and ambitions. A tall and very 
striking-looking girl, with a willowy, lissome figure, 
an abundance of hair between flaxen and golden, like 
a ripple of a lake in sunshine, and a marvelous com- 
plexion. No one remarked that her face was not a 
pure oval, that when the roundness of youth was gone 
her cheekbones would be rather high, and that her 
nose was full short, or her mouth a trifle wide, since 
the lips were full of distracting curves. Her blue 
eyes, not very dark, held both sun and shadow, 
gayety and pathos, and already she was in quite 
demand for society. 

As for Con, he was a bright, fresh, good-looking 
young fellow, much what his father had been at his 
age, but in him the intellectual would join hands with 
the practical. 


3i8 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Lyndell was delighted with her answers. James 
was just now so busy that two or three holidays might 
work havoc with his plans. Morna expressed her 
pleasure gracefully. Tessy’s note was rather timid. 
She would not come beforehand, as Dell had en- 
treated, but she would remain afterward, if it would 
give pleasure to anyone. 

Mr. Murray replied for himself and his wife. 
Several sentences moved Dell’s heart deeply. She 
could understand his hesitation at the proposed tie 
between them, and wondered if even the Beaumanoirs 
would give him credit for so much delicacy. 

“I must take this letter over to Millicent," she 
said. 

She knew it was best to be patient rather than 
resentful. Time would soften the little feeling that 
could hardly be called real objection. 

“If she makes him very happy I shall be content; 
perhaps he does not need an ambitious wife,’’ said 
her uncle. 

“But Tessy will be very ambitious for him,’’ 
laughed Dell. “She is the one content to sit in the 
reflected light, to shine at the fireside. Oh, Uncle 
Beaumanoir! I do not think Len could have made 
a wiser choice, if he wanted exquisite happiness. I 
never was his ideal girl: I always felt that.’’ 

But she seemed to be her uncle’s, for all Leonard 
had been blind. Was it not rather her own clear sight 
that had saved them both? 

They were very busy at Sherburne House. Dinah 
insisted upon every nook and corner undergoing a 
thorough renovation for “Missy.’’ Hosts of accumu- 
lations were sent down to the “quarters.” 

“But not a piece of the old-fashioned furniture,” 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 


319 


declared Dell emphatically. “I want everything as 
it has always been ; as it was when papa was a boy.” 

Aunt Aurelia looked up with a grateful smile. 

Miss Garrick had talked a little about going home 
when the festivities were over. Dell strenuously 
insisted this should be her home, that she should 
remain for company when the others went away. 

“Aunt Julia and I will feel so much more at ease 
if there is someone to keep Aunt Aurelia from being 
•onely. I mean to have a good gay time now, and 
later on, when you both get old, I shall repay all the 
kindnesses with interest.” 

“You have a sweet, generous heart, Dell Sherburne. 
You make me think of your father. He was always 
wanting people around to be bright and happy.” 

Oh, how could they ever have given him over to 
those toilsome years away from them all ! 

Dell’s next great surprise was a telegram from 
Belmont. 

The Osbornes were sure to accept. Lady Ashton 
and the colonel and Gifford must be content with 
sending good wishes. 

Leonard came down himself, perhaps a little 
nervous about the part that so nearly concerned 
him . 

“No words can thank you, Dell,” he said, in a 
voice unsteady with emotion. “It was a splendid 
idea all through. I am glad to have the Murrays 
introduced under your wing, for I haven’t become 
such a radical that I am for throwing down all the 
fences of society. I dare say, when I get to be fifty 
and a judge, I shall be a fine old aristocrat, attain- 
ing to father’s ideals. Aunt Aurelia’s have so 
softened that I hardly know her, and there is no fear 


320 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE, 


about her welcome. I am delighted that so many of 
them are coming.” 

“It was my long ago dream to have them here, but 
I did not imagine, in my child’s narrow experience, 
that it would all work out so harmoniously.” 

“There is nothing to be said — not even to 
Ethel 

He looked at her with questioning entreaty. 

“You will tell it yourself in a hundred ways,” Lyn- 
dell laughed. “You will be like Miss Muloch’s lover, 
‘go in and out with a shout’.” 

“Then you must shut me up and keep me on bread 
and water. Why,” complainingly, “I’ve hardly been 
allowed to see Tessy at all. Mrs. Fanshawe is a 
veritable dragon; Con hangs around and talks, and 
really, Dell, you would be surprised to know the 
amount of knowledge he has picked up in his tour 
around the world. I count on Milly taking a tremen- 
dous fancy to him; two of a trade, you know, though 
Con hasn’t come to books yet.” 

Was here another trophy to float down to Millicent? 
She crushed out the sudden jealous thought. 

Leonard was pacing up and down the room. 

“There is one quality I like extremely in Mr. 
Murray. I fell in love with Mrs. Murray last summer, 
you know. I never saw anything so lovely as that 
little woman with her flock of children about her. 
But as to him. .Self-made men, and men who carve 
out their own fortunes, are so apt to fall into an 
egotistical way of talking about their past and their 
struggles, as if living on the lowest round, and doing 
the most menial work, was the start and ought to be 
glorified. It isn’t what the man did ; it is the strength 
of purpose, the ambition and determination that 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 


321 


make him. It is what he becomes. Your favorite, 
Carlyle, said that years ago. I hope I shouldn’t be 
ashamed of humble beginnings, if I had htgnn humble, 
but I sometimes listen to the talk of men in our own 
great capital that sickens me. A man may be a 
hewer of wood all his life, and the world none the 
better for it. But if he rises it isn’t on account of the 
wood, or the strength of his arm, and if Mr. Murray 
had been one of those blatant egotists I couldn’t have 
endured it. He simply lets the past alone, or refers 
to it in a manner that dignifies it and him. The 
natural inbred courtesy is worth a fortune.” 

“He always was a gentleman. I am afraid I was 
the most unpromising. Oh, that day Aunt Aurelia 
first saw me!” Dell laughed and gave a little sob, 
while her eyes overflowed. ‘T think I was at my 
worst.” 

Leonard drew her to his heart and held her a moment. 

“But you have been at your best so many, many 
times! Dell, I think the last three months I have 
grown glad with an exceeding great joy that you 
dropped among us just as you did. It brought out 
all our meannesses, our selfish, narrow, grudging 
spirit — we who prided ourselves so on our superiority. 
I don’t wonder, coming from such a family as the 
Murrays, you were shocked by our overweening pride, 
our pragmatical arrogance, our pretensions, and oh, 
our coldness and cruelty! If Tessy should ever be 
jealous of this adoration of you! But she never will, 
sweet, humble little soul ! I hope the best of all, 
which will be the love of a man a hundred times better 
and nobler than I, will come to you, and that Sher- 
burne House will be the happiest home in all the 
county.” 


322 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Dell was crying then, softly in a kind of moved, 
grateful manner, and yet with a curious dread of 
future solitariness, 

“It is queer and inexplicable,” he went on, “that, 
coming so near, we should never have touched that 
divine point of fusion called love. It makes one 
understand the sacredness of it, the mightiness, the 
high obligation of human souls to wait for, to take the 
best. Heaven grant it may come to you, my dear 
cousin ! And we must all strive to add our portion. 
I am glad I bring to you your dearest friend. And 
it will be my highest aim to make her happy.” 

Yes, he was very much in love. So many new 
thoughts and feelings had come to him. Some 
chord in his full voice touched her keenly nowadays. 
A kind of reverent tenderness had grown up in him. 
Tessy had worked changes no one else could have 
brought about, and most of all the change in his self- 
consciousness and pride. 

She, Dell, had not done it all. 

But how much she had done, how much influence 
for good or ill we all work on each other can only be 
known when every man receives his reward for the 
work of his own hands. 

What lovely days these were, with the multifold 
fragrances of spring! And if indoors shone in its 
renovation, out-of-doors went through the same proc- 
ess. Trees were trimmed, straggling shrubbery made 
shapely, paths raked and rolled; the negro quarters 
whitewashed and made attractive with vines. Every- 
thing wore a gala aspect. 

Beaumanoir was to be opened to guests as 
well. Ethel and her mother came down for a little 
visit. 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 323 

“Is it true that Dell is to have the Murray tribe 
down?” asked Mrs. Lepage superciliously. 

“Why shouldn’t she? Her own dearest friends, in 
her own house!” returned Millicent. 

“I shall never get used to thinking it hers. Do 
you not suppose it will come back to the family some 
day?” with a nod that indicated a secret knowledge. 

“Leonard has been so very wary where young 
women are concerned. Though he could marry 
splendidly,” remarked Ethel; Dell does not possess 
all the attributes and endowments. 

“We are not in a hurry for any more marriages,” 
said Mrs. Beaumanoir. She dreaded the comments. 
If Leonard would only be a little careful ! 

“And it would be most uncomplimentary to Lyn- 
dell to choose her for the sake of the home,” declared 
Millicent, with rising color. 

“Do you know,” began Ethel, with an impressive 
air, as if this was a discovery to be mentioned with 
bated breath, “I am quite convinced that if she 
shouldn’t take Leonard, or he shouldn’t want her, 
which is possible, after all, she will not marry. Why, 
do you know of an offer ” 

“One in England and one in Germany,” inter- 
rupted Mrs. Beaumanoir. “And Chauncey Mason 
would fall at her feet if she didn’t hurry out of his 
reach. And Spencer Kirby is very fond of her.” 

“Still she doesn’t really ‘take’ in society. Of 
course, her being an heiress and all that is in her 
favor. She is fine-looking, as well. But she has a 
decided leaning toward strong-mindedness, and you 
need certain attractions to carry off that.” 

“If we only can keep the true state of affairs from 
Edith!” Mrs. Beaumanoir said confidentially to Milli- 


324 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


cent later on. “I do not feel as if I could go through 
with the surprise and the talk.’* 

“Dell will be sure to help us,’’ replied Millicent. 
“And Mr. Murray has not really sanctioned the 
engagement. Under some circumstances we should 
feel annoyed,’’ she smiled a little. “I think he is 
waiting to understand the real temper of the Beau- 
manoirs.’’ 

“My dear, we shall lay no straw in the way. We 
all want Leonard to be happy. But I am a little nerv- 
ous lest there should be some sort of esclandre."' 

The guests came in so rapidly that the interest bid 
fair to be divided — cousins and second and third 
cousins, who could hardly be made to understand that 
Sherburne House would go on unchanged. 

Alice and Mr. Osborne were received with the 
utmost delight. She had improved wonderfully, and 
the pretty married ways sat charmingly on her. She 
had also developed quite a mind of her own, and no 
longer stood in awe of Ethel. 

Gifford’s health had improved greatly. “He has 
grown stouter, and really very good looking,’’ de- 
clared Alice. “Though he was quite homesick at 
first. I wasn’t a bit, though it seems years rather 
than months,’’ and the young wife gave a radiant 
smile. “I have seen so much, lived so much, and 
been so very happy.’’ 

Lyndell answered with shining eyes. Very happy! 
Ah, that was worth a struggle with a weak self! 

“We wanted you so in the winter, Dell. Oh, why 
didn’t you come! Tessy had a grand time in San 
Francisco. I think her more charming than ever. 
And Lady Ashton fell in love with Con; isn’t it 
funny how naturally you call him that? He is a 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 325 

splendid young fellow. He and the colonel and 
Bevis talked India for days. They all thought him 
remarkably intelligent, and so intensely amusing. Con 
insists that it is Irish wit. I hope you have asked 
him down. Bevis counts so on seeing him.” 

“I have invited all the family. The elders will be 
sure to come,” replied Dell. 

“They are such lovely people! I want so to see 
the mother. Con and Tessy talk lovingly of her, 
almost as if she was another child.” 

“As she is, almost.,'' returned Dell laughingly. 

The Murrays spent a night in Washington, to Leon- 
ard’s satisfaction, and he accompanied them the next 
day. The Sherburne House carriage was in waiting, 
and Dell with Bonny, now sleek and fat and sedate. 

“Oh, Mamma Murray!” she cried, “I was so 
afraid at the last moment you might change your 
mind.” 

“We wouldn’t let her,” said Morna. “Not but 
what she wanted to.” 

Dell held her hands in a sort of speechless ecstasy. 

Tessy stood by timidly. Were they to be the same 
dear friends? Dell stooped to kiss Baby Densie, who 
looked like a cherub in her white Gretchen coat. 

“I am going to take Tessy in with me,” Dell said, as 
Leonard seemed leading her away. “Give me time 
to speak to everybody,” raising her eyes reproach- 
fully. “Can the rest of you go in the carriage?” 

“May I come over to supper?” asked Leonard. 

“If you will be attentive to cousins of every degree. 
I am so nearly mistress of Sherburne House that I air 
my authority,” laughed Dell, in a pretty, consequential 
way. 

“I promise.” 


326 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


She was holding Tessy’s dainty hand in her firm, 
warm clasp. 

“Then begin with Miss Morna. Mamma Murray 
has a knight of her own, of whom you may take 
lessons. Are you all comfortable? Julius, let us go 
in advance, as befits the princess royal. And mind, 
no hurrying!” 

Tessy sprang in. Dell took up the reins and led 
Bonny in advance. 

“Dell!” exclaimed the soft, entreating voice, “are 
you angry?” 

“Angry? There is only one thing that can rouse 
ray temper at this satisfactory period. I think if you 
were to ask me whether you might take Leonard’s love 
with a clear conscience, or whether, even now, it was 
not possible for us to come to some understanding, I 
should turn into the same kind of fiend Aunt Aurelia 
unearthed years ago. Or you might inquire of Len 
the particulars of his first interview with me.” 

Dell gave a rather amused laugh, to hide her 
emotion. 

“But you may have thought me deceitful, untrue to 
my love for you ! For I think, even now, Dell, if you 
bade me give him up ” 

“Then you do not love him as he firmly believes 
you do!” declared Dell spiritedly. 

“I love him — so well that I wonder now how any 
woman can love twice. But I couldn’t make any one 
unhappy in gaining my own desire.” 

Her voice was full of little breaks, and the color 
that fluttered over her face was love’s delicious pink. 

“No one will be unhappy. Someone will be very 
happy. I don’t know how much Leonard has told 
you, or how much you can bear ; but you ought to 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 327 

begin with perfect truth. Only he must tell it, save 
the fact you knew that we were once engaged, but 
Uncle Beaumanoir was not quite satisfied. We were 
to wait a year ” 

“Yes, I know all that happened. I did not for a 
long while, but when he wanted the matter settled he 
told me.” 

“Ours was an affair of cousinly regard ” 

“No, he wanted Sherburne House, and you wanted 
to give it to him. Dell, I think your regard was a 
hundred times finer and nobler. But I cannot see 
that he was so very much to blame in that other 
matter. Dell,” her hand reached out softly, like the 
flutter of a bird, and rested on her friend’s, “I know 
it is quite possible to love unaware. Of course Miss 
Garcia did not understand the regulations of girls’ 
lives ” 

“And you love him in spite of all!” 

The comment surprised even Lyndell, after it was 
uttered, as she looked at the lovely uplifted face. 

“I loved him. Let me tell you. I shall never feel 
at peace until I do. He came down while we were at 
South Bay — once to spend Sunday, and later for a 
whole week, staying at a hotel in the vicinity. Mrs. 
Fanshawe was away for a fortnight. Oh, Dell, I was 
foolishly, selfishly glad ! Such walks, such beautiful 
moonlight sails, such delicious afternoons that I swung 
in a hammock and he read to me. He was charming 
to mamma and Morna, and the children were just 
wild over him. He did not seem to be thinking of 
me, especially, and I did not think of anything but the 
exquisite satisfaction.” 

Dell heard the soft, long breath that recalled the 
delicious joy. 


328 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“He came down once again on Saturday. Papa 
brought him. He was in New York and did not 
know what to do with his Sunday, so papa invited 
him. And then I knew and was afraid. I did not 
dare write to you. He came up again about Alice’s 
wedding, after we were at home, and spoke to me. 
It did not seem fair and honest, and I asked him not 
to come any more. We had visitors — I told the truth 
there, but I was afraid to go, I knew I must tell 
you. So I begged him to forget me, and to try to 
love you. I knew all the relatives would be dis- 
pleased. He wrote to me, and I answered twice, then 
I stopped. He flew up to New York and had it all 
out with papa, who besought me not to marry him. 
Mr. and Mrs. Arnold wanted so much to take me to 
California with them. Papa asked me to go and to 
try and forget. I know he was very sorry, but it 
seemed wisest.’’ 

“You heroic little girl!’’ cried Dell, in admiration 
and pity. 

“It was so lovely out there! Just weeks and weeks 
of pleasure! Everybody was so good, and I did try 
to forget. I could see the force of papa’s reasoning. 
He was too proud to have me go into any family who 
thought themselves higher and finer and better born, 
though I do not think anybody can be nobler than 
papa. But I had learned some things about the world 
and people’s opinions.’’ 

“That are narrow and unjust — yes.’’ 

“And papa thought we were all such good friends. 
He said you had been so sweet and brave and patient, 
and that it would be wicked to disturb all you had 
gained.” 

That moved Dell immeasurably. 


COMING INTO HER KINGDOM. 329 

“And none of it did any good!” Dell smiled at 
the energetic yet pathetic protest. “Leonard would 
have his own way, and I couldn’t unlove him. And 
he has been noble and sweet and brave, and when 
Mrs. Beaumanoir wrote such a tender, sympathetic 
letter to mamma, and you insisted that we should all 
come — there was nothing else to do. I’ve been very 
happy, and very unhappy, and life has seemed glad 
and desolate by turns, and now I am afraid ’’ 

“You need not be afraid. Leonard will have his 
own way. You are too small and powerless to stem 
the tide.’’ 

“Oh, Dell! It would be such transcendent bliss 
just to give in to it, to have no more worry, to let one’s 
self be loved, and oh, to love!” 

“There’s nothing else for you to do, my darling. It 
has all been planned out for you, and everybody has 
consented. One can’t love comparative strangers in a 
moment, with the love you give relatives and lifelong 
friends. And you will be patient, I know.” 

“Leonard promised that nothing should be 
said ” 

“Nothing is to be. You are simply my guest. 
And here we are ! Thrice welcome for your own, for 
Leonard’s sake.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


WHAT DREAMS MAY BRING. 

D ell sprang down lightly and gave her hand to 
Tessy. Then she turned to the carriage. 
Leonard was assisting Morna. Mr. Murray took 
little Densie in his arms, and the young man turned 
to Mrs. Murray. 

“Welcome a thousand times!” cried Lyndell joy- 
fully. She had Mamma Murray here at last! 

“Oh, it is all so beautiful!” said Mrs. Murray, with 
an indrawn breath. 

“You should see it a little later, in rose time. But 
you will come again and again. For I expect to grow 
old in this blessed spot.” 

She gave thanks that she could say so then. 

Miss Sherburne and Mrs. Stanwood came forward 
and responded cordially to the introductions. Densie 
captured Aunt Julia at once. 

“But your son?” inquired Miss Sherburne. 

“Oh, isn’t it queer !” exclaimed Dell. “I’ve never 

thought of Con! Why, he promised ” 

“He is coming down with Dr. Carew.” 

Mr. Murray glanced at his wife as he said this, and 
a frightened expression crossed her face. 

Dell intercepted it and was transfixed. 

Leonard led Tessy up to Aunt Sherburne. His 
entreating face would have softened a harder heart, if 
the heart was full of love for him. He put the 
trembling little hand in hers. 


330 


WHAT DREAMS MAY BRING. 331 

Miss Sherburne stooped and kissed her, and Tessy 
knew she had been received into grace. She glanced 
up with a face so full of delight that the elder woman 
was moved immeasurably. Was it not a blessed thing 
to make this young soul happy in the very beginning 
of life? 

There was a pleasant confusion, and to Mrs. 
Murray the wide hall seemed full. She was so glad 
to shelter herself in her tall, composed husband, who , 
was as much at home as if he were a daily visitor. 

“I will take Tessy and Morna,” said Dell eagerly, 
as Mrs. Stanwood led the elders up the broad stair- 
case, and they followed. 

“You two are to have my room, and I have taken 
this little one to be near you. And Philly will wait 
upon you. But it is so strange I had forgotten Con.” 

Tessy showed the same curious alarm — was it really 
that? Then her self-possession was gravity. 

“You are sure Con is well? Oh, is he going off at 
a moment’s notice?” 

“Nothing is the matter with Con. Dr. Carew 
wanted him to wait, that is all.’’ 

There was something in Morna’s tone that puzzled 
Dell. But she stood up straight and assured, as if 
that must be the end of the questioning. 

“I wonder if you would like anything? City people 
proffer a cup of tea.” 

“I do not spoil my complexion with tea,’’ laughed 
Morna. “But it will feel more human when the dust 
of ages is washed off it. Oh, Dell ! what a lovely big 
room ! I wish I had a cat to swing in it, the space 
is so utterly delightful.’’ 

With that she pirouetted around in the most grace- 
ful fashion. Tessy sat in speechless enjoyment. To 


332 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


belong to these people, to have a right here, to be 
Dell’s own cousin ! 

“Do either of you think you will stay?” remarked 
Dell mischievously. “Here is Philly to take your 
hats. And where has the trunk gone?” 

“Oh; to mamma’s room! Where is that? Dell, 
whatever do you do in this great house. It is like a 
hotel. Where is mamma’s room!” 

“Just across the hall. Come and see.” 

Julius was bringing up the trunk. There was a 
pretty little crib for Densie, that Floyd had outgrown. 

“Oh, mamma, are you lost?” cried Morna. “Just 
imagine a little mite like Tess meandering about this 
great house. And the immense out-of-doors! Papa, 
will you unstrap the trunk? We must have some of 
our very own belongings to look at, to tell who we are. ’’ 

Dell had gone back to Tessy, who stood by the 
window. Someone was talking to Leonard in the 
path below. And he had given up every hope of this 
splendid old home for her! Perhaps in time Dell 
might have come to love him if he had been very, very 
much in earnest. 

“Tessy, what is wrong with Dr. Carew?’’ 

The question was asked with such sudden incisive- 
ness that Tessy turned pale and hesitated. 

“Yes, something has happened. And — I wanted 
him to come. Why, I shall feel hurt ’’ 

“He will. They will come through to-night.’’ 

“But I must know.’’ She caught Tessy ’s arm. 
“Was it an accident?’’ 

“Oh, no! Dell, we were not to speak of it. He 
meant to come with us, biit he wasn’t quite strong 
enough; and they wanted him to wait, insisted 
upon it.” 


WHA T DREAMS MA V BRING. 


333 


“Then he hashttn ill, or some dreadful thing " 

“You’ll go and conjure up all sorts of horrible, 
imaginings. Oh, please don’t! And don’t breathe it 
to anyone. He has been working very hard. And 
you know he scarcely took any rest last summer. 
There was a very long and critical operation, ‘and he 
did splendidly. One of the surgeons they had 
depended upon was taken suddenly ill, and no one else 
had studied up the case, except the two. And after it 
was over Dr. Carew fainted away, and was uncon- 
scious so long they were alarmed at first. But it is 
all right now, only they wanted him to wait a day or 
two before he took so long a journey. There, you 
have wrung it all out of me!’’ declared Tessy, with a 
pretty show of indignation. “If I didn’t know you 
were as safe as — as the bottom of the ocean ! But 
please don’t let anyone know. You are so sharp at 
guessing.’’ 

Dell kissed her. Morna came back, Philly follow- 
ing with her arms full of different articles. 

“You look like a lady of state,’’ Lyndell laughed, 
to cover the awkwardness. “And now I must go 
and attend to someone else.’’ 

But she paused at the end of the hall and thought 
of Bertram. He had always been so strong. To 
faint away, to be unconscious! A shiver ran over 
her. 

No one else came that afternoon. Dell took her 
guests down to the great drawing room, where most of 
the others had gathered, and introduced them. Miss 
Garrick greeted Tessy with unfeigned pleasure, and 
was rather amazed at tall, pretty Morna. But the 
dainty little mother was so like Tessy she felt in five 
minutes as if she had known her half her life. She 


334 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


had not been as lovely as Tessy in her young days, 
but even then there was a charm hard to define; the 
graciousness of a sweet soul that never knew a narrow 
or grudging thought. And now at three-and-forty, 
with her hair fine and soft and hardly a silver thread 
in it, the plump clear skin very little wrinkled and 
still fair and pink as a girl’s; she looked a refined 
little body in her gray checked silk with its black lace 
garniture. They had persuaded her to wear one small 
diamond beside her wedding ring, and there was 
another in the pin at her throat. There was no fussy 
consciousness, even if she was a little timid. It was 
not because these were grand people, — she saw rich 
folk every day of her life, — but because they were 
Dell’s people, and she couldn’t quite forget that first 
interview with Miss Sherburne, who now came over 
and talked to her while little Densie made a pretty 
picture hanging about her knees. But in her sweet 
forgiveness she would not have recalled it for worlds. 

Leonard had Morn a by the piano, and tried very 
hard to keep his eyes from Tessy in her heliotrope 
colored gown that heightened her peculiar twilight 
effects. Mr. Murray stood by the great carved 
chimneypiece, talking with some of the cousins from 
Baltimore. 

Leonard was taking it all in with a feeling of elation. 
He could hardly have loved a woman if he had to be 
ashamed of her people. The Murrays might have 
been the finest blood in the county, if you judged by 
the reposeful self-possession. And when Aunt Julia's 
little boys came in they coaxed shy Densie away from 
her mother — she was so used to boys, and they had 
little bits of by-play that made Aunt Julia almost 
covet her. 


WHAT DREAMS MAY BRING. 


335 


After supper, which was rather early, Mr. and Mrs. 
Beaumanoir drove over, and the two mothers, who 
were some day to join hands in a nearer tie, met with 
a little bit of embarrassment. Leonard introduced 
them. Tessy had run away with the little children, 
and was telling them a wonderful story. The night 
was so mild they sat out on the porch and fell into a 
bit of confidence, that banished the awkwardness. 

“She is certainly a very quaint, charming body,” 
Mrs. Beaumanoir said to Millicent. “If Leonard’s 
wife can look as girlishly pretty when she has been 
married three-and-twenty years and cared^for a house- 
ful of children, we shall all be content.” 

“Where were you?” Leonard asked of Tessy, way- 
laying her in the hall. “My mother has been here.” 

“I was helping put the children to bed. And 
Densie was in a strange place, you know. Besides, 
you were not ” 

“But I can steal one moment of love, surely! And 
when all this crowd gets away the engagement shall be 
regularly announced. I am not going to be put off 
on quarter rations.” 

“Oh, Leonard! please ” 

It was so sweet to be entreated in that tone, by a 
small mite who couldn’t escape his strong arms nor 
his lover’s kisses. 

They all retired at a rather old-fashioned hour, for 
the guests were fatigued with their journey, and Miss 
Sherburne had had more excitement than was really 
good for her. The next day would be very full also. 

But Lyndell was not thinking of her birthday as she 
lay strangely wakeful. She would have been more 
than human if she had not enjoyed the attentions paid 
to the Murrays. And the highest gratification wa§ 


336 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


that they were so entirely worthy of it. Circum- 
stances and a certain natural breadth, perhaps the 
liberty with them had made her extremely democratic; 
but there was a charm in fine breeding. It was like a 
special Providence and reward that prosperity should 
have attended Mr. Murray’s every step. The pros- 
perity of honesty, industry, and good judgment, not 
any wild speculations or unfair practices. Yes, she 
was as proud of his record as if she had been his 
daughter. 

Was all this an effort to keep Bertram Carew out of 
her mind? She could not endure the thought of his 
being ill, suffering. Her sympathy seemed to sweep 
her away to some unknown shore, that she strove 
against with all her might. She must not hug any 
secret knowledge to her soul that belonged to Milli- 
cent. She must not let Tessy Murray outdo her in 
that high honor of womanhood. The pattern had been 
set so forcibly before her. 

The morning dawned radiantly. There was a cor- 
dial stir everywhere. Lyndell thought she would like 
to keep the old house always full of people; she was 
very fond of her kind. Tessy and Morna were eager 
with congratulations, and they had the first, the 
sweetest. 

But she went to Miss Aurelia’s room directly after- 
ward. She would not set the Murrays before her. 

She came out with tears shining in her eyes. Mrs. 
Murray stood in the hall, holding Densie by the 
hand. She put her arms around the young girl’s neck 
and kissed her. 

“My dear,” she said simply, “I don’t think we 
ever quite knew how glad we were to have had you, 
to keep you still. And when Tessy goes away, for 


WHA T DREAMS MA Y BRING, 


337 


her lover’s that impatient he will not be put off, we 
shall look to you for bits of comfort. Dell, dear, it’s 
hard to have them go out of the home nest. And I 
had a fancy Tessy would stay. She’s never been 
caring for lovers. But now we can’t say no.” 

She looked so sweet and piteous, almost as if 
imploring help from the tall young girl. 

“And it came to me last evening,” she smiled now 
through some tears, “about that afternoon so long 
ago — do you mind, Dell? But your aunt has softened 
and become rarely sweet, and everything has changed 
so much. We’ve grown out of the old things into the 
new, and it’s like a bit of heaven to be here and see 
you happy.” 

There were other guests going downstairs, and they 
joined the little throng. Mr. Murray and Leonard 
stood on the porch — they had been talking a long 
while. And then Lyndell was suddenly merged into 
the heroine of the occasion, and everybody wished her 
as much joy and happiness “as if it had been her wed- 
ding day,” Morna declared. And all the servants 
wanted to speak to young “missus,” and many of 
them brought little gifts that touched her to the heart. 
She wondered with a sense of amusement if they would 
begin to call Aunt Aurelia “old mis’,” as she had 
heard in Southern houses, and resolved that it should 
never be done. 

Mr. Whittingham came over with his small family, 
and he and Uncle Beaumanoir and Spencer held a 
lengthy conference with Aunt Aurelia and Lyndell. 

“I wish I didn’t have to know anything about it,” 
the young girl said rather petulantly. “Can you not 
go on and do everything just the same?” 

“Not quite the same. If you want us to manage 


338 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


as before, we must have new power as trustees. I am 
getting to be quite an old man, but Spencer here keeps 
track of everything. And now you can demand your 
money.” He gave a dry little laugh. 

“I coaxed some out of you once,” she said, with 
a gay smile. ‘‘And put it to a bad use.” 

“Not so bad, either,” shaking his head. ‘‘My dear 
young lady, being your guardian has afforded me a 
great deal of interest and pleasure. And I shall be 
glad to remain your friend and trustee.” 

Then she had to listen to all the lists of properties 
and their incomes, which year by year were growing 
more profitable. One young girl to have all this 
money and Sherburne House! She was amazed, 
almost crushed by the weight of honors. And there 
was no one who really needed it in the immediate 
family. 

She had spoken before this of Gifford and his debt, 
which she wanted canceled. 

‘‘My dear,” said her uncle, ‘‘if Leonard had bor- 
rowed money of you, I should want him to repay it. 
The discipline will be a good thing for Gifford. A 
man ought to consider a woman’s money just as 
sacred as a man’s; and his promise to her should be 
kept under all circumstances.” 

So she could not proffer again. 

There were works of benevolence. Some she had 
proposed were considered rather ill-judged. There 
were such close limitations. She understood, with 
her ready comprehension, that she must go slow at 
Sherburne. No sweeping changes could be made, 
and she was not certain now that they would be best. 

When she went back there had been fresh accessions 
of guests. All the Beaumanoir household, and her 


PV//A r DREAMS MA Y BRING. 


339 


two cousins, and some people from the neighborhood. 
Major Stanwood drove over for Archie and several 
friends. 

“The Carews have not come up yet, I see,” said 
Millicent. “Bertram thought he might reach here 
last night. And young Murray. Oh, Lyndell ! they 
were all charmed with Mrs. Murray. Leonard’s way 
is clear now. I must find Tessy and give her my 
welcome.” 

Just as she was turning Major Stanwood drove up 
with his son, and there was a cordial greeting. 

“Young Carew came on the train. Did any of 
you know that he was ill?” 

“111!” Millicent paled suddenly. Dell was fore- 
armed. With presence of mind she said: 

“How long has he been ill?” 

“I don’t know. He looks quite worn out. That 
is the way with so many of the young fellows — trying 
to do it all! But the doctor and Miss Neale will soon 
have him nursed up. And he bade me tell you he 
was not going to miss the dinner.” 

“Oh!” said Dell, relieved. But she had the other 
certainty, if she had needed it. 

“How curious!” began Millicent. “I heard a 
week ago. And now I remember he spoke of going 
abroad. He has been working hard, in connection 
with some of the other surgeons, to establish several 
new methods. And he is in so many things. He 
needs someone to look after him. I think he has 
missed the charm of the Murray household this 
winter. Dell, there must be some unusual gift or 
grace in Tessy ” 

They were all in a huddle and Millicent paused, 
she was so used to having Dell alone for an audience. 


340 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Certainly the young girl carried her honors gracefully; 
and when she glanced at timid, retiring Tessy Murray 
and her distinguished-looking brother, she was not 
quite satisfied with the turn of fate. Still she drew 
near and placed her arm tenderly over Tessy’s 
shoulder. The soft eyes looked up pleadingly. 

She stooped a little and kissed her. “I hope you 
will be very happy,” she whispered. 

The dinner was to be at three. The savory fra- 
grances from the kitchen seemed to pervade the whole 
place. There had been a light luncheon on the buffet 
for any newcomer from a distance, and the children 
had been carefully looked after. They ran about in 
the most gleeful fashion, and hovered around little 
Densie as only boys can when there is but one 
attraction. 

“The Murrays seem to be very decentish sort of 
people,” Mrs. Longworth said patronizingly, “but 
that tall girl is a thoroughpaced coquette. I suppose 
now Dell will make it a sort of second home to them 
all here. ” 

Alice laughed. “Their own home is a very lovely 
one.” 

“Yes, on certain lines. Mamma was surprised at 
the evidences of respectability. Mrs. Fanshawe has 
had them all in training ” 

Mr. Longworth was coming up with Mr. Murray, 
and Leonard had Mrs. Murray on his arm. 

“Another of Miss Sherburne’s cousins,” he said 
with a bright smile, introducing her. 

“I must thank you for all your kindness to my 
daughter last winter,” Mrs. Murray began, after she 
had acknowledged the acquaintance. “She came 
home quite in love with everybody.” 


WHA T DREAMS MA Y BRING. 


341 


The manner was certainly charming, and defied 
criticism. 

Ethel inclined her head an instant afterward and 
whispered: 

“I hope the ‘in love’ didn’t extend to Gifford.” 

“We were very sorry to have her go,” said Mis. 
Osborne. “And your son, is he not here to grace my 
cousin’s birthday?” 

“He is to come with Dr. Carew.” 

“Len,” Ethel began pointedly, ‘‘are we to con- 
gratulate about anything? You know one of our 
dreams, all through the family, has been to see you 
the master of Sherburne House.” 

In spite of himself Leonard’s color deepened. A 
faint pink went up in Mrs. Murray’s face, but she 
made no other movement. 

‘‘You are not to do it at this juncture,” he said 
quietly, and turned away. 

“Oh, Ethel! how could you?” cried Alice, shocked. 

“I think Len wants spurring up. It was a sugges- 
tion for Mrs. Murray to look out for her very pro- 
nounced young daughter.” 

Millicent had gone upstairs when the Carew carriage 
arrived. Con Murray and Miss Neale came up to- 
gether, and Dell, standing there, greeted them warmly. 

“I think now you are Sherburne from top to toe,” 
cried Con, looking her over. ‘‘I am almost afraid of 
you. Oh, dear, dear Dell!” 

He was fain to kiss her before them all. Had he 
ever played ‘‘tag” and sidewalk ‘‘hopscotch,” and 
oh! as on that merriest, saddest of all afternoons, 
‘‘circus”? Had he ever written that dreadful letter 
about the tall, gracious, elderly woman who put out 
her hand to him also, and said softly : 


342 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“I am glad you think her a Sherburne.” 

The doctor and Bertram were coming up the steps. 
He looked wistfully at Dell, and she hurried to meet 
him. 

“Oh, you were very, very ill!” Something shad- 
owed her face like a passing drift over the sun. 

“A little upset. But I meant to come to do honor 
to the feast.” He took both her hands, but his were 
dry and feverish. “Is it all fair sailing? How can 
Len ever be grateful enough?” 

Just this moment — just this long, inexplicable look 
from eyes to eyes. And then Dell Sherburne put 
the consciousness away with sunny bravery, for Milli- 
cent was hurrying out, and there seemed a touch of 
charming confusion. 

At this juncture dinner was announced. Leonard 
was master of ceremonies. Aunt Aurelia was in her 
old place at the head of the table, Mr. and Mrs. Beau- 
manoir at the foot. At the right the Murrays, at his 
left Mr. Whittingham, while friends and relatives were 
interspersed; the middle spaces of both sides being 
devoted to the young people. Leonard had Dell on 
one side and Tessy on the other, and looked supremely 
radiant. 

It certainly was an enjoyable occasion, and the feast- 
ing was quite magnificent. When the dinner and 
dessert were over and the coffee brought in, Mr. Whit- 
tingham made the speech of the occasion, very heart- 
felt and cordial. Then they toasted the young heiress ; 
there were other bright speeches made, young Mr. 
Murray and Mr. Osborne quite distinguishing them- 
selves. Leonard replied as Miss Sherburne’s vice- 
gerent. 

When they left the dining room there was a sound 


tVl/A T DREAMS MA K BRIMG. 


343 


of music, and all the lawn was alight with colored 
lanterns. Many of the elder guests took their depar- 
ture. There was to be a dance presently, but now 
the young people sauntered about. 

Con carried off Dell. 

“I never was so amazed in my life!” he began. 
“And I am thinking of the grand coup there will be 
when Leonard Beaumanoir’s engagement is an- 
nounced. I don’t understand it at all. Dell ” 

“It is a clear case of falling in love. And a great 
deal of love is a tremendous surprise to every- 
body.” 

“Since the general impression is that he was your 
devoted knight. I always supposed that would be the 
end of it. He doesn’t look much like the poor, help- 
less fellow who lay in a reclining chair — how long ago 
is it? — four years or so. And you have been here 
almost eight years. Well, we couldn’t any of us have 
guessed what was going to happen. Talk about 
romances; we are living them right along! Doesn’t 
everybody think Len awfully short-sighted?” 

Dell flushed under the glance of admiration. 

“No one really knows it yet, except the two 
families.” 

“Did they take it hard — truly now?” 

He caught both hands. She laughed nervously. 

“They are nice, fine people, but my father stands 
comparison very well. And I like Beaumanoir, now 
tliat he has divested himself from some of the old, nar- 
row ideas. I think t have seen a good deal of vulgar- 
ity and boorishness sailing under what is called good 
birth. It may be long descent, but there is nothing 
good or noble about it. Only I do have to laugh when 
I think how summarily we were set aside.” 


344 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


He laughed now gayly, cheerfully, with no thought 
of wounded pride. 

“Of course no one really knew," Dell began, in a 
softened tone. 

“That they were entertaining angels unaware — no! 
But how Tessy caught the fancy of that big, hand- 
some, aristocratic chap ! I keep saying to myself: 

“ ‘ It’s a very fine thing to be brother-in-law 
To a very magnificent three-tailed bashaw.’ ” 

“Tessy is lovely. She just suits him. She finds 
her way to everybody’s heart.” 

“She won’t be able to hold a candle to Morna a 
year or two hence.” 

“I think he fell in love with your mother. For all 
his queer, contradictory characteristics he is very 
domestic at heart. And Uncle Beaumanoir is One 
of the most delightful of men.” 

“Talking about young men, where can you match 
Dr. Carew? He knows so much he tires me out; 
that is his only fault.” 

“He was very ill ! What caused the fainting?” 

“How did you know?” in surprise. 

“I dragged it out of Tessy. I knew there was 
something wrong, and I made her tell. You shall not 
blame her ! ” 

“Dear little Tess! She was all sympathy. She’s 
like mamma there. But Bertram didn’t want his 
father to know the worst. You see, he’d been filling 
up every moment — writing, lecturing to classes, and he 
so young, too! But he’s a born physician. He had 
been writing all the night before; he had hardly taken 
any sleep for a week. How his hand and nerves were 
steady enough to hold a man’s life between his fingers — 


H^I/A T DREAMS MA Y BRING. 


345 


but he did it when some of the faculty said it couldn’t 
be done. I suppose it was the determination. But 
the next ten hours were quite terrible for him. He 
sent for me — I don’t know just why, unless he wanted 
to draw upon my superabundant vitality.” 

Con looked as if he might have a good deal to 
spare. There was strength in every line. 

“And he was bound to come down here. We had 
a compartment, and it was very comfortable traveling. 
He bottled up every ounce of strength for to-day. 
It is just a case of exhaustion. He’s sound as a nut. 
Only he thought he was made of steel, and he is flesh 
and blood, like the rest of us.” 

‘T should have been sorry to miss him. My cousin 
Violet is abroad, Harry Lepage in the navy, and 
Gifford at the West; with these exceptions the people 
nearest and dearest to me are all here.” 

’‘He wouldn’t have missed it for a fortune. He 
said so. And if you had seen his patience!” 

The words filled her with a great gladness. Some- 
one was calling. 

“Oh, we must go back! I am” — she laughed with 
a touch of consciousness — ” ‘The star of the goodly 
companie.’ ” 

It was Alice. ‘‘They want to dance,” she said. 
“Len is hunting for you.” 

He came up right behind. Con walked beside Mrs. 
Osborne. 

‘‘Tess is an angel!” Leonard declared. ‘‘Nine 
people out of every ten have us engaged. I feel queer 
about it, as if it wasn’t fair to you. And she sits and 
smiles. To-morrow I shall be all day mending her 
sweet, broken heart. And now I must redeem my 
reputation for a long-ago rudeness. Miss Sherburne, 


34 ^ 


4 SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


will you allow me the pleasure of leading the evening’s 
entertainment with you, in the opening quadrille?” 

Tessy had a partner. Carew seemed comfortable 
in an easy-chair, with Millicent to entertain him. 
How lovely Milly looked to-night in her soft pearl 
gray gown, with ribbons a shade deeper. 

After that they had quite a revel indoors and out. 
The gayety was infectious. It was another good time 
at Sherburne House. 

Dr. Carew hovered about his son. Miss Neale was 
anxious to have him return home, as she noted his 
pale face, but his eyes had a bright, longing look. 

Yes, Lyndell Sherburne was very happy. He 
watched her bright smile, he caught the sound of her 
inspiriting voice now and then. It was clear yet not 
loud, it had some peculiar rhythm, as if it had been 
trained to music. He wondered how she would read 
Shelley’s “Lark,” soaring up to heaven’s gates. 

How light her step was ! Her very dancing was a 
pleasure to see. And yet she was not all mirth and 
gayety; she had longing, aspiring moments. No one 
had quite fathomed the richness of her nature, not 
even Millicent. His father had come the nearest. 

She was in a little circle now, having some merry 
badinage with Con Murray. The others were laugh- 
ing at the bright play of wits. Con was a very 
attractive, unsentimental, undeveloped fellow. And 
she had known him so long! 

Bertram half rose. “I think I will go home. Aunt 
Neale, dear. I have done my full duty toward the 
heiress. Millicent, it was lovely of you to devote your 
evening to me. There comes father!” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

LORD OF HERSELF. 

T he mistress of Sherburne House! It came into 
Lyndell’s mind the first thing the next morning. 
Not in any prideful sense, but a kind of humility that 
seemed quite new to her. 

For she had fallen short of her ideals in many 
things, mostly with her own soul. She had busied 
herself with the mysteries of the future, with the deep 
questions of life, with high aspirations, and secretly 
fretted at the narrow round. God had not made it 
narrow; she was doing that herself, because the one 
thing she believed would make it blessed and compre- 
hensive was out of her reach. She had promised her- 
self that she would not covet it, and yet, in every 
opportunity that offered, she had allowed herself to 
feel miserable that so great a joy had not come to her, 
but must go to one who had so much already. 

It was midnight, and past, before the lights had 
been out in the house. Everybody, even some of the 
servants, slept late. But Dell lay and listened to the 
singing of the birds until every pulse thrilled within 
her, and she rose softly. Morna and Tessy were 
lying there in serenest comfort. Aunt Aurelia always 
had a cup of coffee brought up to her room, and never 
came down until the breakfast bell rang. Aunt Julia 
Avas in the farther wing of the house, and was gener- 
ally busy getting the boys ready for school, but they 
were to keep holiday to-day. 


347 


348 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Some of the relatives had gone over to Beaumanoir 
to finish their visit. Mr. Longworth and Ethel had 
taken the evening train. Mrs. Longworth felt that 
she had added glory enough to her cousin’s coming 
of age. 

“It is a handsome old estate,’’ her husband said, 
“but its real money value is not so great. The land 
can only be hired to the negroes, or kept for early 
vegetables and fruit, neither of which are especially 
remunerative. But your great grandfather was shrewd 
in buying in that western district. That will be an 
ever increasing source of income. Really, your cousin 
will be quite a prize. I suppose Beaumanoir will get 
her, though he didn’t strike me as being enthusi- 
astically lover-like.’* 

“It’s such an old agreement,’’ and Ethel gave her 
shoulders a rather supercilious movement. “There 
really was nothing else to do.’’ 

“She must have been very tractable about it. She 
doesn’t look like that kind of girl, either.’’ 

“I am'^ure any girl might be proud of Leonard.’’ 

“True enough! But Miss Sherburne might take 
her pick among marriageable men. She has a certain 
fine dignity, with all her youthfulness.’’ 

“She has had the best of training, but those years 
with the Murrays have left their impress on her.’’ 

“Mr. Murray is a very intelligent man, with a good 
business head. And our boasted equality does suc- 
ceed now and then in bringing some of the best to the 
front. That is its redeeming feature.’’ 

Ethel was silent. She thought the Murrays had 
been pushed forward altogether too much. But they 
were better bred than some people she had been 
compelled to recognize in Washington. 


LORD OF HERSELF. 


349 


And now, as Dell glided softly downstairs, drawing 
long, delicious breaths of springtide air, she saw Mr. 
Murray and one of the most exclusive Floyd relatives 
from Baltimore strolling along in genial converse. 

“He looks like some of the old Norsemen,” Dell 
thought, with his clear skin and fine color, the white 
in his hair giving it a kind of flaxen tint. She 
couldn’t recall anyone who had taken the family 
amiss except Aunt Lepage and Ethel. 

Joe and “Klumpus,” as the young lad, who was 
named after his country’s discoverer, was always 
called, were gathering up the dibris of burned out 
lanterns and trailing wreaths of moss and princess 
pine, with the^ withered flowers that had been fes- 
tooned from tree to tree. The sun was making long 
eastern shadows — how many times she had watched 
them — as messengers from some wonderful country, 
bringing glad tidings. The air was so sweet and full 
of melody that her heart was stirred within her. 

“I have resolved a great many times to live up to 
my heritage, and there have been so many failures. 
One takes a heritage with all that belongs to it, the 
joys, the experiences, and the sacrifices, if there are 
any,” she thought. 

Did not most lives come to know some hope or 
desire dropped out of them? She had disappointed 
everybody about Leonard, but they were accepting it 
cheerfully. And her own father had disappointed 
them all dreadfully, but they had come back to the 
old love, and held his memory in sweet remembrance. 

She knew she had never quite relinquished her 
dream until last night; Alice’s experience had given 
her a vague hope. But she thought of Bertram, pale 
and languid, and Millicent’s beautiful face smiling 


350 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

serenely, making a blessed atmosphere about him. 
And in that moment she accepted the double friend- 
ship, and resolved to let it make her own life glad. 
Had the larger, diviner work begun within her? She 
felt so, with a great, earnest thanksgiving. 

The gentlemen sauntered up to the porch and bade 
her good-morning, with new and heartfelt wishes for 
the future. Then Mr. Floyd went within. 

“My dear child,” began Mr. Murray, with deep 
feeling, “I think the old love and care has been repaid 
fourfold. I must thank you for the lovely visit and 
the cordial welcome. Oh, Dell! can you remember 
that summer morning long ago, just after Miss Sher- 
burne had been ” 

“When I was going to run away!” she interrupted. 
“And the talk under the old apple tree? Oh, Papa 
Murray, you said only a coward skulked along behind 
fences, and that God had answered my mamma’s 
prayer and given me something hard to do, to make 
me a brave soldier. I couldn’t have been so brave 
but for your love.” 

“We have all had our reward — even to Miss 
Aurelia’s favor. When I thought of trusting my 

other darling to her ” His voice trembled with 

emotion. 

“But she loved her long before ” 

“Leonard is her favorite nephew. I truly hoped, 
Dell, the plans would come out as she desired, and 
I could not bring myself to consent at first, though he 
is such a fine, ambitious, and hand^me young fellow. 
Any father might be proud of him for a son. Still I 
can’t quite understand Tessy loving him so dearly; 
not but what she would have given him up if everyone 
had thought best. I talked it over yesterday with Miss 


LORD OF HERSELF. 


351 


Sherburne — that and some other matters — and we 
touched the foundation stone of good will. I haven’t 
any fear now. Only — it seems so strange to have my 
child here among you all ” 

There was no exultation in his tone. It truly did 
not seem a great step to him, or that there should be 
any condescension on the other side. It was simply 
strange to him. His children were the best of his life. 
He could not sign away anything better. 

“We didn’t think it then?’’ Dell smiled, with tears 
in her eyes. The exultation was love, not pride. 

“If I could have moved God’s choice for her, it 
would have been Dr. Carew,’’ he said simply. 

Was everybody so won by Bertram? 

“And they were such friends! But love is quite 
another thing,’’ and a humorous tenderness crossed 
his fatherly face. 

“They will all come to love her. Oh, you need hot 
fear!’’ she entreated. 

“Not while she has Miss Sherburne on her side. 
Dell, dear, there is nothing left to wish for you. You 
have won about all by your grace and endeavor.’’ 

“God has given it to me. I sometimes feel that I 
have made very little advance. I don’t come up to 
my own ideal,’’ in a passionate, regretful tone. 

“Do you expect to know it all at twenty? My 
child, I go on learning every day. I take steps back- 
ward that were wrong and forward again, remember- 
ing that God only can pick out the straight purpose in 
the criss-cross lines. I think it must puzzle his wis- 
dom sometimes. And he is so patient with our 
blunders. He gives us so many chances. And that’s 
one reason why I like Dr. Carew so much. With all 
the new learning and strange jargon they talk, he still 


352 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


calls the great moving and inspiring power God. And 
oh, my dear!” with sudden reverent earnestness, “I 
hope all your life may be according to this beginning.” 

He kissed her on the broad, fair forehead. 

There was a pleasant confusion of voices within. 
Tessy came flying down, and the others behind her. 
Mr. Murray took his “baby” in his arms. Big girl as 
she was, they could not let her slip out of the place. 

It made a lovely domestic picture, Leonard Beau- 
manoir thought, as he came trotting up the avenue on 
Duke. And Lyndell might have been one of the 
children, but for her brown eyes. 

It was a very busy morning. One after another 
went away, with the kindliest wishes for Dell and 
expressions of pleasure at their visit. 

Archie’s farewell was the most dolorous. 

“I don’t feel as if I had seen a bit of you,” he 
d&slared impatiently to Dell. “But I shall be through 
this summer, and father is to bring you up to the 
grand ball. I shall be proud enough of you. Miss 
Sherburne!” 

Dell laughed pleasantly. “We shall count on a 
visit, surely,” she replied. 

Aunt Lepage was to take Florence back to school, 
and Fanny went part of the w'ay with her, after 
exacting a promise from Dell that she w'ould certainly 
come to her graduation. 

“Why, I begin to feel quite old,” said Dell, with 
sudden mirthfulness. “I graduated so long ago.” 

Alice and Mr. Osborne came over to dinner; the 
rest of the family sent word they would be at supper. 

If Leonard was devoted yesterday to his cousin, he 
had no eyes or thoughts for anyone but Tessy to-day. 
She was so shyly sweet and startled, as if she had lost 


LORD OF HERSELF. 353 

her way a little and would fain escape to the back- 
ground. 

But for his skirmishing with Morna, there would 
have been no cover at all. 

“Oh, Len!” exclaimed Dell, when they had come 
out on the porch, for the day was as charming as yes- 
terday; “will you not go over to Dr. Carew’s? No 
one has expressed any anxiety all the morning.” 

“We have been so much engrossed,” said Aunt 
Julia. “Yes, we want to hear. He looked wretched 
last evening. What has he been doing?” 

“Overwork, overwork!” cried Leonard, with a 
musical mirthfulness. “You see, I do not take it so 
hard. I am anxious for a long life and prosperity. 
Oh, I dare say Con is over there! He went to the 
station with one relay. Sherburne House had another 
splendid time, didn’t it? Yes, Dell, I’ll go if you’ll 
let me have the phaeton and Miss Murray.” 

Tessy declined at first. Then she found she was 
becoming the center of observation, and quietly rose 
to get her hat, obeying Leonard’s entreating look. 

“It is queer,” began Alice, in a low tone to Dell, 
“but yesterday everybody took it for granted that you 
and Leonard — and he has acted all the morning as if 
he was dead in love with Tessy!” 

Lyndell flushed. “For protection to myself the 
engagement is to be announced this evening.” 

“Oh, Dell!” 

Alice was an exclamation point of surprise. 

“Tessy is sweet and lovely, and I have felt this long 
while that you — that you did not know — oh, Dell ! you 
don't really understand what love is. But I can’t 
imagine Leonard ” 

“It must be a great surprise to everybody.” Dell 


354 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


smiled at the puzzled expression. “But he fell in 
love with her a year ago and wavered a little. Since 
the autumn his mind has been unalterably fixed. 
The family were opposed and took the opportunity of 
sending Tessy away.” 

“Opposed — why?” Alice’s family pride was 

wounded. 

‘Tf you consider a moment, you will understand/’ 
Dell returned gravely. 

“But we all liked Tessy so! And Dell, Mr. 
Murray is the equal of anyone here. He is finer and 
more gentlemanly than many of the men you meet 
who have always been rich. Only it does seem funny 
for Len to choose that way. And be couldn’t have 
found a sweeter wife. They were all in love with her 
at Belmont. Why, she could have married ” 

“Tessy has had no lack of admirers,” said Dell, 
rather prbudly. Then she felt the color rising to her 
cheeks as she wondered if anyone would really believe 
she had been thrown over for Tessy! An instant 
later she was struggling against the sense of mortifica- 
tion. Yet Tessy knew that Leonard had been more 
than half in love with her, and quite exigent for an 
unqualified acceptance. Was it bravery or love? 

The children played about, and Mrs. Murray looked 
on smilingly. She had won Aunt Julia by her wealth 
of mother love. Mrs. Stanwood could read the secret 
of Dell’s adoration, and her heart ached over again 
for the little girl who had come from that warm, lov- 
ing, and outgiving home to the unwelcomeness and 
biting, protesting air of Sherburne House. She was 
convinced that Leonard had chosen for his happiness. 

Alice was silent a long while. Then she said : 

“Tessy will be quite able to hold her own with 


LORD OF HERSELF, 


355 


society. She never bristles up, but I have seen her 
look a time or two as if she was surrounded by fine 
spear points that would keep anyone at bay. And 
she has a curious sort of firmness. I don’t believe 
Len will ever walk over her, and his chief fault is 
lordliness. Well, I am amazed, but it is one of the 
things where the fitness grows upon you. Tessy is 
sweet as a rose.” 

Dell gave her a bright smile, and the lustrous tender- 
ness of her eyes, for the praise that was so grateful to 
her. 

Morna was indoors playing. She was a really bril- 
liant performer, and had a dainty, saucy voice for 
singing. Aunt Aurelia came down and listened. 
They all chatted pleasantly, and by and by the Beau- 
manoir carriage came over. Millicent was with her 
parents. 

“Have you heard from the Carews to-day asked 
Aunt Julia. 

“Oh, yes! I was over this morning,” replied Milli- 
cent. “Bert is very much tired out, but none the 
worse for the dissipation, he thinks, though he would 
have come if it had really laid him up, he declares,” 
smiling over to Dell. “He was fairly obstinate 
about it.” 

“Is it just being worn out? He always seemed so 
strong. He has never been really ill.” 

“It is being worn out a good deal. He had made 
up his mind to go abroad in May or June for a three 
months’ rest, and he found so many things to finish 
up. But he has decided to go now as soon as he can, 
and has been trying to coax his father and Aunt Neale 
to accompany him.” 

“That would be splendid! The doctor ought to 


35 6 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

go,” exclaimed Dell. “But it sometimes seems as if 
Miss Neale had seen all the richness of the earth.” 

' ‘‘I don’t believe he will be able to persuade either 
of them. I am sorry, too.” 

“He is not in bed?” 

“Oh, no; pillowed on that great sofa where he can 
watch the goings out and the comings in,” laughed 
Millicent. “And Aunt Neale hovers about him with 
the most delightful solicitude. He said he meant to 
press everyone into service for his entertainment.” 

She sat down beside Dell presently and asked about 
Tessy and Leonard. 

“Bert was wondering someone had not been from 
Sherburne House,” she rejoined to Dell’s expla- 
nation. 

It was quite supper time when the lovers returned. 
They had left Con at the doctor’s and gone for a drive 
— the first time Leonard “had had her to himself,” he 
said complainingly. And she was such a pretty pict- 
ure with her dewy eyes full of untold meanings and 
her sweet, blushing face. 

She would have run away and hidden herself. 
Her joy seemed so sacred, so secret, too, as if she 
could not bear other eyes to look upon it. But 
Leonard had tight hold of her hand. 

“Father, mother,” he said, in a joyful tone; “this 
is the one woman I have chosen out of all the world 
to be my wife. I hope you will all love her and give 
her a warm welcome.” 

Mrs. Murray could have kissed him on the spot. 
She had no furtlier fears for her child. 

But it was Tessy who had the kisses. Leonard 
coftld not have done a more manly or beautiful act 
than his frank and tender declaration. 


LORD OF HERSELF. S57 

The supper bell rang the second time, long and 
loud; they had been so engrossed. 

“Let me go a minute!” Tessy pleaded, hat in 
hand. “No, don’t come, Morna!” 

“The one he had chosen out of all the world!” 

Lyndell Sherburne looked at her cousin’s beaming, 
brilliant, satisfied face. Had he really ever loved 
her! There was an inexplicable disquietude. Would 
anyone ever carry a joy like that in his face for her? 

He waited a little in the wide doorway and led 
Tessy to the seat beside himself. If yesterday was 
Dell’s honoring, to-night was hers: set there in the 
midst of them, the chief thing, because the chief one 
among all had loved her. There could be no cold- 
ness, no distance in the time to come. 

During the evening the Murrays spoke of return- 
ing. Con did not come in until quite late. 

“I haven’t had half a visit,” he declared.^, “I am 
trying my utmdst to supplant Miss Dell. I shouldn’t 
wonder if I persuaded the doctor and that lovely Miss 
Neale to adopt me. Mater, it would be hard to lose 
your son when you love him so dearly for the dangers 
he has passed ; but his virtues are of that transcen- 
dent quality they cannot be hidden. I have promised 
a few more days to my Dr. Carew.” 

“Oh,” said Mrs. Beaumanoir, “we cannot let you 
go so soon. You have not tested our hospitality yet. 
We shall insist upon that pleasure to-morrow.” 

Con took his father’s arm. “After all, a day or two 
cannot matter,” he said. 

The household returned to Beaumanoir with this 
understanding. Leonard was fain to remain, but firm- 
willed little Tessy exercised her authority, and the big 
fellow acquiesced reluctantly. 


358 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

'‘Now,” said Morna, as they were about to retire, 
“Tess shall have you to-night, Lyndell. I know she 
is just crazy to talk over everything. I want to save 
my impressions fresh for my own engagement.” 

Dell laughed. Tessy looked wistful, and that 
settled it. 

Yet for a while they said nothing. Each was need- 
lessly busy with the pretty girlish fussiness belonging 
to such a time, when trinkets are carefully laid by, and 
laces patted and folded, and sleeves straightened out. 
It was still strange to Dell. Anita Garcia had been 
so different, so communicative at once. And Tessy 
heretofore had been so ready to talk. But Dell had 
always lacked the grace of going forward in a frank, 
sweet manner when she was not quite at ease. 

Tessy came to her, put both soft white arms up 
about her neck. The voice was very low, with a little 
fear in tfej breathlessness. 

“Are you quite satisfied to have it so, dear?” 

‘‘Oh, you foolish Tessy!” There was a tremble in 
the voice. 

‘‘When he said ‘the one woman in all the world* 
I knew he had chosen you first. He was telling 
me about all that year abroad. I don’t know how 
you could have helped loving him. If you had, then 
it would have been you.” 

‘‘Tessy, you are very generous. Some girls would 
think ” 

‘‘They would think they could not be second,” 
Tessy said quietly in the long pause. ‘‘Dell, two 
men have asked me in marriage that I liked a good 
deal. Presently they will find someone to return the 
affection, and they will love absorbingly. I hope they 
never will remember me the least bit, not enough to 


LORD OF HERSELF. 


359 


confess they have been in love. But it is different 
with Leonard. He will never cease to love you. Do 
you suppose I felt troubled yesterday because he was 
your knight, and people were suggesting a marriage! 
I was glad to have him so lovely of his own. accord. 
I should have been hurt if he had come to me for any 
word. I am glad to have him do right. I should 
feel mortified to have him do mean, selfish little 
things.” 

“But he loves himself a good deal,” interposed 
Dell. “And he loves to be waited on, to have people 
give continually, to be the center of everything.” 

“And I love to give, not simply for what I may get 
back, but for the sake of loving, of going quite out of 
myself for the other one. I should want to be 
respected in it,” with a sudden straightening of the,, 
small figure that bespoke firmness, “but I want some- 
one to be first, like papa, someone brave and strong, 
that you know would fight for you in a minute. And 
I love Leonard for all the human little things about 
him; he has tempers, and a very obstinate will some- 
times. And that was what helped him through the 
winter. I said I loved him, but that he must have a 
clear conscience about you — that no one must feel 
aggrieved.” 

‘‘And you wanted him to ask me again to marry 
him. What if I had.?” with a daring smile. 

‘‘Then I should have known it was the right thing, 
and rejoiced with you. And I wanted to be sure no 
one would be angry. I am very glad everybody loves 
him well enough to bear a little disappointment. And 
when I make him very happy in the years to come, as 
I shall, they will all think this the best that could have 
happened to him.” 


360 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

“Better than Sherburne House?” tentatively. 

“Yes, better than any person's fortune. He will 
have to make one for himself, and for me. I shall 
want him to. I shall want him to come up to the best 
that is in him, and there is a good deal. I shall want 
him to keep to his people and honor his father and 
mother, just as I shall always honor mine. All these 
things will sustain my pride in him. But if any- 
thing happened — if he lost his health, or if he failed 
honorably in making the fortune — I should want to 
love him better to make up for the sting of disap- 
pointment.” 

“Oh, my dear! You are twice worthy of him, too 
worthy” — too good, she wanted to say, but could any- 
one be too good, too loving? What was the new 
commandment for? 

Tessy laughed softly, with love’s own rapture. 

“But you will not mind if I love him very much?” 

“Oh, Tess! I am not such a dog in the manger! 
And you will make him a hundred times happier than 
I ever should. If it had not been that one man did 
love me very much once, I should say I was not the 
kind to attract men in that manner. And oh ! he is 
happily married now, as is much better for him. It 
would have been a big mistake!” 

Lyndell laughed pleasantly. 

“There are some splendid men in the world ” 

Tessy paused and looked up at her archly. 

“Then you do not think you have taken the last one, 
the only one? My dear little Tessy, I want you to be 
very happy. They will all come to care for you and 
appreciate you truly. And you shall love Leonard 
with your whole soul, and he may love you as the one 
woman in the whole world, and I shall never be cross 


LORD OF HERSELF. 


361 


or jealous or resentful, but thoroughly satisfied. And 
now we must go to bed and get a little of what Aunt 
Julia calls ‘ beauty sleep,’ for we never had a wink of 
it last night.” 

She was such a pretty, dainty, winsome little thing, 
Lyndell thought for at least the hundredth time. 
There was a little triumph at the assurance of all she 
had conquered, of the prejudices they had all con- 
quered. It was the old dream come true, not by 
force of will and power, but force of truth and love. 

The next day they were all at Beaumanoir. Little 
Densie had won everybody by her half shy, cunning 
sweetness. 

“Oh, do you remember when I lay stretched out 
here in this room, and you and Con came over?” 
asked Leonard, as he and Tessy were exploring every 
nook and corner of the house. “Dell was awfully 
stingy of you both, and I had to coax and coax. 
What a ghost of a fellow I must have been! You 
were all so merry, and yet I can recall the look of 
divine pity in your eyes. But I was horribly jealous 
of Con! I thought I never would be good for any- 
thing, and he would come and carry off Dell. She 
was splendid through all that weary time. You were 
just a little girl ” 

“I am only a year younger than Dell,” bridling with 
pretty dignity. 

‘‘You will stay sixteen forever, like your mother.” 

Tessy laughed. None of these mothers by nature 
or by grace were quite as sweet as hers. 

Con had been back and forth from the doctor’s with 
bulletins. Bertram wasn’t so well to-day. 

Milly had some interesting things to tell Dell. A 
letter from Mr. Southgate, that she must take to Ber- 


362 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


tram to-morrow, and an application for a story that he 
would be so delighted about. 

“When we get over all this holiday time I must go 
to work in good earnest,” Millicent said, her eyes 
fervent and shining. “There is an enchantment in 
it, and the success gives me fresh inspirations. Later 
on I am going to invite some people down that you 
will be delighted to meet. Dell, I think we shall have 
a lovely summer! And there will be Bertram’s 
letters. He has promised to visit Luckenwalde.” 

The places where Millicent had been would be dear 
to him. Dell kissed her with a pang that had no envy 
in it now, that would presently be overgrown with 
sweetness and rejoicing. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


“and having nothing, yet has all.” 

D o you know you have not been near me for three 
whole days? I have been quite a hero, but this 
Mordecai has refused to come in and pay me due 
honors. Even father remarked it. Aunt Neale, 
sweet soul, found a thousand excuses, but I hold it 

against you. What shall be done ” 

Leonard had picked up Bertram and brought him 
over, and was to take him to Beaumanoir. 

“Tessy shall be my Esther to plead. She disarms 
everybody,” said Dell smilingly. “Shall we go in?” 

“And find lovers, as the song has it, Tn every other 
spot’? No, let us sit down here. My physician 
advises that I remain out of doors as much as pos- 
sible. He would have taken me driving himself, but 
he was afraid of the wearisome miles. And Len came 
to hand. But I had told Milly I would be over to- 
day. Still, father admits that I am a very good 
patient.” 

She drew the large willow rocker out of the glare of 
the sun that found its way through two tall trees at 
this time in the morning. He dropped into it. 

He was still very pale. Part of it was driving 
through the wind, but his eyes were tired and sunken. 
The tired look showed as he leaned his head back. 

There was a line in his cheek at the side of his 
mouth, that she had never seen before. In his father 
363 


3^4 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


it was a deep, laughing wrinkle. His nose was more 
in the Greek pattern, and showed the falling away as 
well. 

“Len takes it awfully hard,” he said, with a bright, 
amused laugh. “Tessy Murray is just the girl for 
him. She can wind him round her finger.” 

“Now,” admitted Dell, rather unwillingly. She 
could not all at once assent to this fascinating power. 

“She always will. You are the stronger intel- 
lectually, but you would have been in bondage to 
him. I am glad you did not marry him.” 

A color came up in Bertram’s face, but vanished in 
a few seconds. He glanced at her, then away. 

“He did not really love me,” she said frankly. 

Had she cared very much for him? Was she feel- 
ing hurt and sore? The grand thing was that one 
overlived the soreness. • 

“Sherburne House stood between.” Was it morti- 
fying to admit it, Bertram wondered. Had not she 
failed nobly in giving it back. The real honor was 
hers. ‘ ‘And it was the strongest, best thing he ever 
did in giving it up. The world isn’t made of unusual 
people, but just plain everyday ones, even if they are 
put in handsome bodies. The remarkable and heroic 
actions come only now and then. We should get too 
tense and topple over, to be kept up to concert pitch 
all the time — or snap — and we might be good for noth- 
ing afterward. But I never looked to see Len in such 
dead earnest. He is one of the high-bred, proper 
sort. I suppose it is the repression working through. 
The astonishing thing to me is that he did not give up 
Tessy last winter, when relinquishing was made easy 
and holding on hard.” 

“That shows how much he really loved her.” 


^^AND HAVING NOTHING, YET HAS ALLT 365 


“She was a little angel all the way through; and 
Mr. Murray was magnificent. It was honor more 
than pride. And you managed it splendidly. Your 
birthday was one of the fortunate happenings.” 

“There would have been something else, at least a 
feast made for the occasion,” she returned, a little 
coldly. 

“It was lovely!” he went on. “Nothing would 
have made me miss it but sheer impossibility.” 

“But you were — you had ” She paused, con- 

fused. 

“I have been most unwise, and suffer for it. I 
intended to take a vacation presently, and was doing 
double work along all the lines. It was short-sighted. 
But I always had so much strength.” 

“You have grown very thin.” There was a touch 
of the sweet, girlish charm in her face, and it gave him 
a thrill to see it. He drew a long, half-magnetized 
breath. 

“I don’t mind the loss of flesh so much as the 
almost womanish weakness. I’ve seen a nurse take 
as much fatigue without any fuss.” 

“Physically, but not intellectually at the same 
time.” 

“ ‘Burning my candle at both ends,’ as father would 
say. Well, I shall be careful hereafter. I love to 
live. Do you know what that means, heiress of Sher- 
burne House? The world is a splendid place for 
talent and energy and strength. But its demands are 
tremendous. It’s odd, but I did miss Tessy in the 
winter. I used to drop in at Mr. Murray’s so often 
for ten minutes or half an hour. No one talked to 
me. Tessy played or sang, or just sat quiet, or per- 
haps said half a dozen words now and then.” 


366 


A SHERBURME ROMANCE. 


Yes, everybody found her lovely. 

“She will keep Leonard up to his best on the house- 
hold side. He has certain ambitions, and has shown 
strength of purpose. Len is one of the fortunate 
mortals to whom things come. There are a great 
many mysteries to life, beside the one awful omni- 
present mystery we all carry about within us.” 

Dell did not answer. Did everybody revolve about 
Leonard, as the doctor had once said ? 

“You haven’t apologized for neglecting me,” he 
began presently with a smiling look in his eyes. “I 
ought just to have come in and wished you joy, and 
excused myself. Then you might have neglected 
me three whole days with a good reason.’’ 

The complaining tone was so much like his father’s 
comical fault-finding that she laughed. They had 
been such good, natural friends it was hard to be on 
guard all the time. 

“Three days!’’ with mirthful resentment. “Why, 
on Wednesday morning the friends and relatives were 
going away, and I had to be Miss Sherburne, hostess. 
Then before supper Leonard made his announcement, 
and my uncle’s family were all here. On Thursday 
we all went to Beaumanoir. Yesterday the Murrays 
started for home ’’ 

“And you were over to Ardmore ” 

“I had to go in and see Mr. Whittingham. I have 
been very busy, and you had Con and Milly and 
Leonard and so many.’’ 

“Even Tessy!’’ He smiled with a vague, curious 
softness. 

Dell’s heart beat with unwonted rapidity. She had 
made the little things an excuse for keeping away. 
She had been so accustomed to the first place at the 


^^AND HAVING NOTHING, YET HAS ALLT 3^7 


doctor’s, and now she was trying to slip gracefully into 
the second. 

“You are going abroad,’’ she said, drawing a quick 
breath. Was she warned by some subtle fear? 

“And I hate to go alone. When I think of the 
splendid time all you young people had together, I 
wish I had come over and been young with you ! I 
shall have to go backward to catch up.’’ He laughed 
with an odd, fascinating anticipation. 

“But youth is so full of mistakes.’’ Would he 
have judged Millicent’s choice a mistake, she 
wondered? 

“Because we try to do so much — we are too stren- 
uous. We want to be old and wise and reach the high 
places too soon. Then, at middle life, we have had 
it all, and are tempted to cry out that all is vanity. 
We lose our hold on everything. I don’t want to. 1 
want a long, lovely, satisfying life with some pros- 
perity, some fame, a big chance to help suffering 
humanity, and a very real life of my own. Manlike, 
I want a good deal of love in it — as much as Leonard 
is going to have.’’ 

There was a glow on his thin cheeks, a luminous 
expectation in his eyes. He was not looking quite at 
her, but past her; yet he felt the emotions coming 
and going in her face. Did he want the translation 
just now? Would she know of a surety herself? 

“Well?” with a sudden change of mood, recover- 
ing from the lapse of thought, “what do you mean to 
do?’’ 

She blushed scarlet, taken by surprise. 

“Whatever is right and best,’’ she replied slowly. 
“Just now everything seems to be adjusted on cer- 
tain lines. I have come into my inheritance,’’ smiling 


368 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


and raising her eyes, and finding after all she could 
meet his bravely. “It has duties and pleasures. I 
think I owe Aunt Aurelia some care. I certainly owe 
it to Aunt Julia, that she shall be more relieved from 
the responsibility and have more of her own life. 
Then there will be Millicent ” 

“Yes, Milly is counting a good deal on you this 
summer. You two will be left “ 

Leonard came hurrying out. “Will you mind if I 
cut short your call, Bert? You can come over next 
week and spend days on this delightful porch, while 
I am mewed up in an office, where even the voices 
of spring smack of legal lore. I have a plan for 
to-day “ 

“Come with me,” said Bertram, in a tone of 
entreaty. “Milly will be glad to have you.” 

Was he like Leonard, were all men alike in this 
respect, that they wanted adoring audiences? 

“You simply can’t have her. Dell and I have 
some plans,” he returned, in his gay, imperious 
manner. “I have only to-day, for I must go back on 
Monday. Oh, why isn’t life half holiday at least?” 

Lyndell made no protest. Bertram rose reluctantly. 

“Why, I haven’t seen anybody,” he exclaimed 
suddenly. “Miss Sherburne, Miss Carrick ” 

“Well, suppose someone else takes you over? We 
are to have some luncheon and go over to Strawberry 
Creek, and then anywhere, at our own sweet will.” 

Yes, he would have all next week. “Never mind 
about me. I do want to see Miss Sherburne,” 
Bertram said. 

“Run and get ready, Dell.” 

She was a cousin again, to be ordered about, to be 
made a convenience, a confidante. It was better than 


*^AND HAVING NOTHING, YET HAS ALL.” 369 

going over to Beaumanoir. So she went indoors to 
Tessy. 

“It is his last real pleasure day for a long while," 
Tessy said, with appealing eyes. 

Dell kissed her with a smile. Her own individu- 
ality would come later on. Just now it was the things 
of to-day. 

And the day had been made from all time for lovers. 
Lyndell watched the exuberant ones ; she saw, in a 
picture, the other graver ones. Did Bertram want 
Millicent to be young again, and have the great glad- 
ness prepared for her that had been gathering sweet- 
ness and strength all these years? She, Dell, would 
not think of next week or next month when they were 
all away. Whether things happened or not, she had 
just to go on, and take up the little duties. Not 
reaching out for great things; she had not attained 
unto them. A fortnight ago she had looked upon her 
life as a failure, her short twenty-one years, and won- 
dered what she would do with the other forty or fifty. 

Did it appear brighter because she had given up 
the old restless striving? To love her neighbor — that 
was the creed of her to-day. To be satisfied with the 
many loves in their varying qualities; and if the one 
greater than all never came, to rest securely in the 
others. » 

There was a soft, rainy Sunday, just such as fields 
and woods love after weeks of spring sunshine. Dell 
and Aunt Julia drove in to church, and the beautiful 
spiritual calm was refreshing. Milly was more Ma- 
donna-like than ever. But Dell slipped her hand in 
Aunt Neale’s arm and walked down the country path 
under her umbrella. 

“We have missed you so!" declared Miss Neale. 


370 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“But I know how engrossed you have been all the 
week. My dear, it seems as if God had taken all the 
thorns out of ^ the way, doesn’t it? I was talking last 
night about your first visit to us, and what a troublous 
pilgrimage it looked like. You have come into that 
other inheritance that is promised to those who faint 
not in well doing. Bertram is cordially enthusiastic 
over Leonard’s choice — he has known Miss Murray so 
long. What a fine, breezy, inspiriting young man 
that Con is! You all get called so by your Christian 
names.” 

“And Bertram?” she suggested inquiringly. 

“He was not so well this morning. He and Milli- 
cent had a long talk over literary matters. He 
believes it the right thing for her, and somehow, she 
looks like a genius or a saint. Oh, you haven’t heard ! 
They want Bertram to sail on Saturday. His passage 
is really engaged, and Dr. Bethuyne, one of his pre- 
ceptors, is to go over to attend some convention. 
There are so many new discoveries all the time. It 
wears one out to be in the hurry and rush.” 

“Will he go?” They paused at the end of the 
path. 

“They count on the sea voyage. There is no 
organic trouble of any kind, but just exhaustion. He 
shouldn’t have stayed so late that night of the party ; 
he scarcely stirred from the sofa the next day. He is 
so used to being strong he does not know how to 
manage his own weakness. He can’t believe it just 
like any other person’s. Yes, doctor thinks he may 
as well go.” 

Aunt Julia was waiting at the carriage. 

“I’ll be sure to come in to-morrow,” said Dell, 
with her good-by. 


‘ MD HA VING NO THING, VET HAS A LIT 3 7 1 

Leonard was to leave with the early train in the 
morning, but he missed it purposely that he might 
have another visit at Sherburne House. Since the 
next train went at two he remained to dinner, and 
Dell drove him over with Tessy, “to lengthen out the 
farewells,” she said, in an amused manner. 

Then they went to Dr. Carew’s. 

Bertram was very much improved. Sunday had 
been such a restful day. 

“I liked the rain so. I don’t know when I have 
listened to a country rain before. There was a whole 
fairy orchestra in it. One may even have too much 
sunshine,” with the shadow of a laugh. 

‘Tt was because you had a quiet day,” said Miss 
Neale. “No one came in.” 

‘T tried to write some verses, the day moved me 
so; I wondered what being a poet would seem like,” 
he said mirthfully. 

“Did you succeed?” asked Dell. 

‘-No, I didn’t. I shall send the skeleton to Milly. 
We talked stories and discoursed on love, Saturday, 
and I did get too excited. I don’t wonder genius is 
absorbing. Aunt Neale told you — about sailing next 
week ? ’ 

“Yes,” turning her eyes away. 

‘T wanted to stay long enough for you all to miss me; 
to enjoy some good times, without having Len to take 
the cream of everything. I believe I am jealous.” 

Dell was twisting a bit of paper back and forth, and 
half listening to Tessy and Miss Neale. 

‘‘It is quite a pity not to have everything to your- 
self. I am surprised at the insatiable appetites of — 
men.” She was going to say lovers, but checked 
herself. 


372 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“ ‘Man is not a happy animal. His appetite for 
sweet victual is enormous,’ ” Bertram quoted. “Poor 
Carlyle ! And there was Jeanie with a heart full, wait- 
ing to be asked ’’ 

“Wasn’t it worth asking for?’’ 

“Yes, yes! Any good thing is worth asking for. 
In prayer, in words, in deed.” 

Why did she keep her face turned away? She was 
usually so frank, so ingenuous. 

“Oh, about your going?’’ Dell asked suddenly. 

“Dr. Bethuyne and Dr. Cray were to go together, 
but something interferes, and Dr. Bethuyne insists I 
shall share his stateroom and have his services. He 
is so strong and good. I’ve always adored him for 
his curious little likenesses to father. Yes, the tele- 
gram went this morning.’’ 

“And when must you leave ?” 

“Father will go up with me. We take the Thurs- 
day evening train from Washington. That gives me 
Friday to make arrangements. But I am disappointed 
of my good time down here. I haven’t half seen any- 
one. Come over and spend a day before I go.’’ 

“Well — to-morrow,’’ quietly. 

Bertram gave a little sigh. 

“Don’t you want me to-morrow?” 

“Milly is coming. I’d rather stretch out my 
good things. Especially — you never inquire how 
long I am going to stay. Three months, six, or a 
whole year! I suppose it wouldn’t make much 
difference?” 

Dell Sherburne thought she would rather have it a 
whole year. By that time she would have grown into 
beautiful sisterhood with Millicent. She would be 
ready to welcome him back, she could visit in the 


^'AND HAVING NOTHING, VET HAS ALL." 373 


home they would have, and share their friends, their 
pleasures. No place would be quite so dear. 

“Dell,” in a dissatisfied tone, “what are you think- 
ing about, in your rich, inward sight? You are not 
listening. Are you counting on a year? Well, I shall 
disappoint you. Three or four months at the utmost.” 

She started and colored violently. 

“It seems to me you have changed in a month or 
two. You are handsomer; at thirty you will be a 
splendid woman. But I like the girl’s eager, asking, 
willful, fire-and-softness face. I’ve strained that last 
adjective to tell the truth.” 

“The girlhood has gone. I suppose women do 
come to have different, more mature expressions.” 

“Don’t let it go!” he pleaded, catching her hand 
in so sudden and strong a clasp that it thrilled her in 
every pulse. “You will always be my father’s little 
girl. One of his sweetest memories is holding a sick 
little girl in his arms.” 

She turned quite away. Then she said something 
to Miss Neale, but he still held her hand. He was 
sitting in the corner of the sofa among the cushions, 
and she was standing by the arm. Then a flash like 
lightning went all over her! Surely it was the touch 
of throbbing lips on her hand ! 

“Couldn’t they spare you?” asked Miss Neale. “I 
don’t know when you have stayed a night. You and 
Miss Murray? They will start about four. Then, if 

you will come over at five Oh, better still! come 

over and say good-by to them.” 

Dell took a few steps with leaden-shod feet. She 
looked steadily at Miss Neale, but it seemed to her 
she saw nobody. And her voice sounded strange 
to herself. 


374 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

‘ ‘We will come after they are gone, dear Miss Neale. 
You see Bertram will have to say good-by to Sher- 
burne House, so it wouldn’t save him anything.” 

She gave a strained, breathless little laugh. “And 
if you want us on Wednesday ” she added. 

“Oh, no! come on Tuesday; Millicent will be here. 
Wednesday we shall be fussing about matters, and 
Bert ought to have a rather quiet day; just a drive 
with his father, perhaps.” 

“I believe I would rather come on Tuesday” 

It was settled that way. Bertram said good-by in 
a sort of muffled voice. Miss Neale kissed them both. 

“Bertram doesn’t seem a bit like himself,” began 
Tessy. “Oh, isn’t that funny! I always say Dr. 
Carew at home, but here it makes such confusion. 
And you have all been like relatives. You know we 
haven’t a cousin nearer than India. I believe the 
first time I was here I almost envied the large inter- 
est. I do hope the sea voyage will improve him. It 
is supposed to be the best thing.” 

Dell was glad to have Tessy talk. The sound of a 
voice kept her from dreaming over the one strange, 
daring thought that held her in thrall. If she chose, 
said the tempter, could she not enter the lists with 
Millicent? She might win even with that rare, early 
remembrance, against her cousin’s sweetness and 
beauty and genius. The subtle^ consciousness that is 
knowledge, the blissful companionship — a whole life- 
time of it that she had coveted, might be hers with a 
little effort. Not a sense of duty, as had pervaded her 
endeavor with Leonard, but just to let one’s self drift, 
to glance up with appealing eyes, to answer with fal- 
tering voice. If she had turned at that instant ! Had 
he ever said anything to Millicent? It seemed to Dell 


^'AND HAVING NOTHING, YET HAS ALLT 375 


at this moment that she could recall lingering looks, 
half sentences, little hand clasps — but she had grown 
up — not like a sister to Bertram, but a child to his 
father. She had never thought of anything until this 
last year ; before that all had been simple good com- 
radeship. And if she had longed a little enviously, 
there had never been any tempting assurance in it, 
only now this glimpse of far sight. 

Milly was at Sherburne House. She had come to 
see if the girls did not want to join her in the visit to- 
morrow. 

No, she could not kiss with a traitor’s kiss, Lyndell 
Sherburne said to herself. Milly had the first right, 
and she would hold it inviolate. There should not 
be any touch of accusing conscience, any question as 
to whether she had taken what was not rightly hers. 

She had brought a little story over for Dell to read 
to Cousin Garrick. And when the lamps were lighted 
and Milly, in spite of coaxing, had gone home in the 
spring twilight, Dell read the pathetic little tale to her 
three listeners. 

“Why, it’s almost like Maria and me, only it is 
made so beautiful, dressed up in all the sweetness of a 
lovely dream. You could not imagine the outcome of 
a simple little circumstance might be that! I only 
wish Maria could hear it. She was so fanciful like; 
always saying ‘Now, if this had turned out so,’ and 
putting another ending to things. I’m not sure but it 
helped along sometimes. Your cousin Milly is won- 
derful, and then the loveliest of all is her being like 
common, everyday folks. I don’t know how that 
young man could bear to die and leave her!’’ 

Then how could another bear to defraud her! 

They had a delightful day with Miss Neale. Even 


376 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE, 


if they were all together, Bertram did not seem to 
mind it. He was ever so much better. There had 
been no fever and restlessness through the night, and 
now he declared he was on the highroad to health and 
that a trip to Europe was an extravagance. 

There was a pretty, matronly air about Millicent, as 
if some sort of possession was assured; and the gentle, 
advisory tone Bertram used was charming. 

A great thankfulness filled Dell’s heart that she 
had not dallied with the subtlety of the temptation. 
The gladness of a few days ago came back to her, the 
old resolves gave strength and content. Her very joy 
comforted Miss Neale as she thought of the pleasure 
they would take together presently. Everything was 
being settled all around, and one could slip back into 
the old grooves. Thank Heaven! they were going to 
keep Lyndell. Neither lovers nor the demands of 
genius would interfere just yet. 

Milly had sketched out a little sort of itinerary for 
part of Bertram’s German tour. She and Dell talked 
eagerly about it. 

“I shall not do everything now,” he said. ‘‘Later 
on I shall no doubt go again, perhaps not just to get 
rested. I don’t believe anyone ever enjoys it so well 
alone.” 

‘‘No, comparing views and experiences adds so 
much,” she returned smilingly. ‘‘And I do hope to 
go again. There are many places I should appreciate 
better with my wider knowledge. We get so much 
richer as we go on.” 

That was what she, Dell, had to do. But first she 
should gather the wealth right about her. 

It was a delightful day to Miss Neale, with these 
bright young people around her. 


"'AND HAVING NOTHING, YET HAS ALLT 377 

Thursday morning Dr. Carew and his son went out 
for the few remaining farewells. Miss Sherburne had 
been rather languid after the dissipation of the birth- 
day party. Tessy was a great pleasure; her soft, 
exquisite way of moving around had so much pictur- 
esqueness without being at all restless. It seemed 
like the gentle stirring of meadow grasses, and brought 
a mental fragrance. 

The morning had started out quite sharp. They 
were all in the old sitting room, but the windows 
were open, and the breath of mingled flavors floated 
in, with the frequent snatches of song. 

“It seems more remarkable to have the doctor go 
up to New York than to have Bertram cross the 
ocean,” said Aunt Jue. “But I do believe we shall 
see you back the soonest,” glancing at the elder. 

“My cup of delight would be brimful if he would 
go with me,” remarked Bertram. 

“I’m too old to go jaunting about in that fashion,” 
was the elder’s reply. “I shall be glad to get back 
to my ‘ain hame.’ Bert doesn’t really know about 
that; no one does until he has a home of his very own 
— and a wife set in it and adored.” 

The son flushed and smiled, with a tender appre- 
ciation. 

There was not much time to spend on farewells. 
They talked together as people are apt to do. There 
were little laughs to keep off the emotional current, 
good wishes, hand clasps. They were all in the 
wide hall, the doctor hurrying out as an advance 
guard. 

Bertram turned suddenly. He had stood aside for 
two years and more, thinking, fearing, believing that 
another had the best right to this girl, who shrank 


378 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


from the look she saw in his eyes, and drew back 
trembling, alarmed. 

He took both hands. It was the merest whisper, 
but he held her so close that to herself she seemed 
almost in his arms. 

“I cannot go without saying it. You have given 
me no opportunity. Will you think of me, dream of 
me, and answer my question, when I come back, in 
the only way a lover can be answered?” 

It was just one rapid breath. The temptation had 
sought her out. “All this will I give thee” — what 
wrote it in letters of fire? What brought up Milli- 
cent’s face? Only this little word, and the fight was 
finished for all her life. 

“Oh, I cannot! I cannot! I have no right ” 

She walked out among them, but in the confusion 
no one noted her pallor. She put her hand over 
Aunt Aurelia’s shoulder, and so was safe. He did 
not look back at her — was it a girl’s startled con- 
sciousness at the sudden, abrupt demand? Had there 
been any other moment in the last week, the moment 
he had been looking for with feverish impatience, he 
would not have taken this last one. He would write 
and explain. Oh, why had he not waited and written! 
Surely there was no one else ! Con was a big, unde- 
veloped boy, where love was concerned; he had a 
dozen projects in his head, and was as likely as not to 
start around the world again. 

“Bertram!” his father said, noting the set lips. 

‘Tt will all come right. I can trust her!” 

He would not admit his fear to himself. 

“Bertram Carew has improved a good deal since 
the night of the party,” said Cousin Carrick. “It’s 
funny that when people are tired Qut with hard work 


^*AND HAVING NOTHING, YET HAS ALL!* 379 

they must run all over Europe. Why couldn’t he 
have stayed a month down here?” 

“There is the resting on the voyage,” commented 
Aunt Jue. 

“And being seasick!” 

“But you soon get over that,” said Tessy. “And 
you really do rest, for you can’t go anywhere.’’ 

They came back into the sitting room. Dell stood 
idly by the window, looking out. She would not go 
away to dream over this thing. It confused her so. 
Could she ever bear to look Millicent in the pure, 
sweet eyes, if she took it? 

“Poor Miss Neale!’’ said Aunt Julia, with a sym- 
pathetic smile. “How she would have loved to 
cuddle Bertram for a month! I am glad you are 
going over, girls. It would be dreadful to miss them 
both.’’ 

Dell was like one in a maze. Her resisting thought 
pulsed and throbbed within her. “For Millicent’s 
sake!’’ it said in the heart-beats. Tessy would have 
stood aside and given Leonard up to her. Should she 
be less brave than Tessy? For she felt far within 
herself, by some secret intuition, that Millicent loved 
him. 

She would rather have stayed at home than linger 
about in the places where he had been. But Miss 
Neale gave them such a heartfelt welcome. Did she, 
too, miss the bright young life as she grew older? 

The evening came off cool, and they had a fire of 
pine boughs built on the hearth. They sat one on 
either side of Miss Neale, low enough for her to look 
in their eyes as she talked. Were Dell’s less bright 
and shining to-night? and yet she seemed heroic 
enough for any of the great deeds of life. Tessy 


38 o 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


caressed her hand, now and then pressing it against 
her soft young cheek. 

Did Miss Neale almost envy happy mothers of 
growing girls, and look forward with a touch of dreari- 
ness? Possibly Bertram might marry in time to come. 
He had been so engrossed and so enthusiastic about 
his profession. She wondered a little that Tessy 
Murray’s winsome ways had not inspired a vital long- 
ing. To be sure, there was Millicent. 

And would this other dear girl ever be the center 
of a lovely home, giving and receiving with the grace 
and adoration of perfect womanhood? She, Miss 
Neale, had been blessed in many things. She had 
resigned herself to God’s will with the sweetness of 
a heavenly nature. She had her brother to console, 
not unlike Miss Sherburne, and the boy had been 
her comfort and delight. Still, she did not wish this 
life for Lyndell Sherburne. 

Yet Dell was dreaming of it, resolving with the 
high effort of self-abnegation. The doctor had said 
more than once §he was wastefully heroic. It did not 
look so to her now, and yet it was a lofty ideal of per- 
sonal conduct, quite possible to an earnest, impas- 
sioned girl. 

For she was certain now that Millicent’s regard im- 
plied a subtle undercurrent of possession. It came 
out in tender, dainty ways, quite as if one had the 
right. Oh, did not Bertram understand? The even- 
ing of the party, when she had resigned herself so 
delicately to his entertainment, a hundred little things 
that came upon Dell with a vivid vision as of second 
sight! And he must never ask her the question. It 
was surely a momentary betrayal, and he would see, 
would remember. 


^^AND HAVING NOTHING, YET HAS ALLT 3^1 

“How quiet we are!” said Miss Neale. “And I 
dare say Tessy’s dreams are the only ones having any 
sure foundation. Shall we order the lamps?” 

“Oh, no, no!” besought Dell. “I like this time 
between lights.” 

Then they began to talk of past events and remem- 
brances, and in a moment or two were gay again. 

Miss Neale enjoyed them both so much. They 
made little calls at Beaumanoir and Sherburne House 
in a dainty, visitor-like fashion. They inspected Miss 
Neale’s school, they visited some of the cabins, they 
sat in the doctor’s study and tried to look wise and 
grave, and were merry instead. The travelers had 
reached New York, and Bertram was none the worse. 

They did not return on Saturday, they could not 
leave Miss Neale alone. So they went to church with 
her, and had greetings from friends and neighbors. 

“You are very good to me,” she said, with deep 
feeling. “I thought Sunday would be a rather lone- 
some time.” 

She could not enjoy being so busy as in the old 
days. She liked to rest and read or dream. But late 
in the afternoon she went out to see a sick baby, and 
Tessy begged to accompany her. Dell was reading 
one of Bertram’s books, but as the darkness came on 
she laid it down and looked out at the vague twilight 
distances. 

Who was that trudging along? It looked so oddly 
like the doctor. Yes, he was coming in. She ran 
eagerly to meet him. There were some surprised 
greetings from the servants. 

“Oh, we did not expect you until to-morrow!” 
cried Dell. “Miss Neale will be home presently. 
How tired you are!” 


382 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

He drew the sweet face nearer, and kissed it as they 
entered the room. There was a faint yellow light 
from the western sky that gave the apartment a soft 
glow. 

“Yes, I have had a long walk — the only way I 
could get home. I am a foolish old fellow, Dell, and 
you may laugh at me ! I meant to stay over Sunday 
and hear some of the fine music and preaching, but 
when my boy waved his hand to me the last time and 
glided away, the city had no further charm.” 

“He was well, and — and happy?” 

Did she mean it for a suggestive confession? Had 
Bertram merely mystified him? 

He took her in his arms suddenly, all the longing 
fatherhood aroused. 

“My child ! ” he cried. “My dear, coveted darling ! 
Dell, I have desired you for my very own ever since 
the time I held you in the chair over yonder, and you 
sobbed out your poor little confession on my shoulder. 
If you hadn’t been a rich girl I should have begged 
for you, adopted you, kept you always. But I gave 
you up to Sherburne House. I watched and hoped, 
and relinquished, and hoped again. And you know 
now no girl could have a warmer welcome to a father’s 
heart, when his son ” 

“Oh, don’t!” she cried, in a passion of regret. 
“I cannot come that way. You must see ” 

“Dell, do you mean to break my boy’s heart? 
He has waited so long without a sign because he 
would not even seem to infringe upon any fancied 
rights ” 

Oh, did she dare believe? Could she answer months 
hence? Millicent’s fair face rose up before her. 

“There is someone else who has a better right, a 


^^AND HA VING NOTHING, YET HAS ALLT 3^3 

claim farther back. I could not come between. Oh, 
you must have seen ” 

She hid her face on his shoulder. Was she his, to 
comfort again? Yes, he saw the blinding confusion 
of her conscience. 

“Oh, you foolish child!” was all he said. 

But that night he had a long letter to write. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 

M TLLICENT von LINDORM sat with a letter 
in her hand this magnificent June morning, when 
the glory of earth was touched everywhere with that 
profound sweetness and meaning that seemed an 
answering blessedness to one’s prayer. She had felt 
it in her first waking moments, with her first glimpse 
of the sky full of iridescent colors, where the sun had 
made the beginning of a new life, a new day. 

She was so moved with all beautiful things. They 
made types and pictures in her mind, and she exulted 
in having the key wherewith to translate them. Life 
seemed so delightful, so satisfactory to her. The 
years spread out like a blessed vision, sweet years in 
which she should go on gathering in rich harvests and 
asking friends in to feasts. 

But it was to her now as if the day had suddenly 
gloomed over. 

The doctor had heard from Bertram by return 
steamer. He had only been a trifle seasick, and 
improved rapidly every day thereafter. He was going 
on to Germany, partly for the quiet, and to Berlin to 
meet some medical friends, and to be introduced to 
other notable men. 

This was her first letter. Gay, chatty, friendly, a 
talk of books, of people, a little of sights, that after all 
were not so wonderful, considering that you could not 
384 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 


385 


go amiss of them in the great, marvelous world. Just 
at the last speaking of his own hopes — there had been 
a half suggestion, a delicately defined reference, that 
startled her. 

They had all grown up so together, like one wide- 
spread family. They had taken in Lyndell. She 
desired truly, she thought, to share all sweet and 
pleasant things with her, even to knowledges and 
subtle experiences. Violet had been deflected into a 
different channel by her love. And now that the fond 
dream of Leonard had ended, her cousin belonged in 
some undefined manner to her, to them all. 

“It would not be possible!” her thought ran. 
“She has become a part of Sherburne House. Her 
life lies there. Aunt Aurelia loves her. Miss Eliza 
adores her. It is her place in the world. It would 

be cruel to go out of it, and go she must if Yes, 

she has duties; God sent duties.” 

Was there any other thought in her mind? She had 
not counted on Bertram marrying for years to come. 
She had been secretly glad that Tessy Murray’s attrac- 
tions had not appealed to a susceptible side of his 
nature. He needed the richness of freedom and 
wide, many-sided life until he came to the full stature 
of perfectly developed manhood. A narrow, absorb- 
ing love would interfere with this. 

Was there anything else? Let her look into her 
own soul and see. She would be satisfied with her 
aims and their rewards, the delightful garden of the 
world with its rich fruit and fragrances for her to 
gather, to share, to give out. She had no selfish 
desires in that respect. If she had any gospel of love 
and truth, of graciousness and beauty, had not God 
appointed her a missionary to carry whatever blessed- 


3S(> A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

ness she could to others in the short span of life 
allotted her? To have Lyndell on the one side, a 
sister by election, who could enter some of the high 
places with her and rejoice; to have this strong, 
manly, aspiring nature with his ambitions, his clear, 
firm sight, his outflowing kindliness, his strong love 
for humanity, to stand in the middle, so; to have 
life idealized 

There was a long, blank space in her thought, such 
as occasionally comes in the deep places. Had she 
dreamed of anything nearer? 

She tried to look at it honestly, frankly, just as she 
believed God might look at it. 

In the years to come she might dream of another 
home. It appeared sacrilegious now, as she recalled 
that sudden swift change in all she held so dear. And 
if Lyndell had duties here, was she quite exempt? 
Her father had begun to take a great interest in her 
new life, since it brought her nearer rather than 
divided them. Her mother leaned upon her for solace 
and comfort. Here was her little daughter to train, 
her young sister growing up amid frivolities, and 
needing some wise guidance. Yes, she had a wide 
place to fill. She was thankful she had not planned to 
go out of it ; she could truly say she had not. 

But to give up her friend — to give up the first place 
to another ! 

There was a hurt and tender jealousy. She would 
keep it a while longer. She would see; men took 
fancies sometimes and overlived them. 

A sound below on the lawn startled her — a sweet, 
clear voice, and her mother’s soft reply, little Nora’s 
laugh. 

“Take me wiv you. Auntie Dell.’’ 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 


387 


“If mamma is willing. Run and ask her!” 

Millicent came down slowly. Baby Nora ran against 
her in her eagerness. 

“Oh, Milly! It is a divine summer morning, and 
every bird is celebrating its praise, every rustle of the 
breeze adds its soft minor. Come out with me and 
get inspiration for a poem ! “ 

Dell’s .fine, supple figure was instinct with energy 
and grace; the flowing lines of neck and shoulders sug- 
gesting suddenly arrested movement subtle enough for 
a picture. Her brilliant complexion, the moist little 
sun-brown rings clustering about her forehead, the 
light of her velvety eyes, the smile that parted the 
lips, the proud, upright, beautiful face — yes, it was 
beautiful here in the morning glow. If Bertram Carew 
saw it 

He had seen it once in the early morning light, 
when he was fighting for Leonard’s life. A vision had 
come to him in this very spot, but then she was on her 
horse and all the glow of first youth enshrouded her. 
He could shut his eyes and see it, he had taken it 
across the ocean with him. Only one person had ever 
guessed. 

She came down and kissed her, with a touch of 
pain at her heart. She was not ready to give up her 
place. There was a battle to fight for the larger 
issues. 

“I cannot go just now. A hundred thanks 

“Then let me take Nora. I am only going in to 
Ardmore. Mr. VVhittingham is not well. And an 
errand or two to do “ 

“Yes, you may take Nora. And if you want me, I 
will go back to Sherburne House and spend the day.” 

“We shall be delighted. Cousin Carrick is rather 


388 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


out of spirits, not well either. We miss Tessy so 
much. It is amazing what an amount of clear inspir- 
iting mental sunshine there is in her small body. I 
am trying to do my best, but it is a kind of reflected 
light, other people’s gifts and graces shining through. 
Yes, we shall be glad to have you.” 

Then she went her way with pretty, prattling Nora. 
She had always been so fond of children. Yes, she 
ought to have them of her very own. The larger 
living was not merely brain and thought life, but 
wifehood and motherhood ; all the good gifts of God. 
And a moment ago she had in her secret soul almost 
relegated her to a round of lonely duty, Millicent 
remembered. She covered her face with her hands, 
and prayed for grace to be fair and honest to this 
young girl, who surely had a right to her own life. 

It was an hour or so before Dell returned. She had 
found Mr. Whittingham at home, lounging in an easy- 
chair, if ever even the most relaxed attitude of the 
formal, old-school gentleman could be called that. 
She brought out the bright stores of her genial mind. 
She was learning that hoarded wealth had no sweet 
flavor, so she gave of hers and was twice blessed. 

“You have done me so much good,” he said, in his 
thin, quavering voice. ‘Come again to-morrow. My 
child, I wonder if you will ever know how glad we all 
are to have you!” 

Were they glad? Then surely she was among the 
best things of life. 

She picked up Milly, going back. Sherburne 
House was a little dull after all the influx of company. 
Alice Osborne had been much disappointed at not 
being able to induce her to return to California with 
them. They would have had such a lovely time. 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 


389 


“It will be just as delightful a year or two hence,” 
she said. “I don’t want to get into the habit of mak- 
ing life all pleasure.” 

They were very sorry to go without her. Ethel went 
over to London for the last of the season. Mrs. Lepage 
was boarding near the convent, and when Florence’s 
vacation came, they were to go to some place on the 
Maine coast with friends. Tessy had prolonged her 
stay to the utmost, persuaded by Leonard, who found 
it much easier to run down to Sherburne House. 

He was very much in love, and he did not mind 
who knew it. For was not real love all the beauty 
and poetry of life, its grandeur and sweetness? 

The engagement created a little stir, but everybody 
settled to it with a kind of warm interest and approval. 
Ethel was the only one who said: 

“Len, ten years from this time you wilF realize you 
have made a great blunder.” 

The young man had only laughed. But he was 
beginning to take some serious views of life. 

It was a pretty picture, Millicent admitted from her 
artistic point of view. The two old ladies were on the 
porch with bits of work for pastime. The summer still- 
ness pervaded everything. Someone was raking paths 
in the distance; now and then a servant dodged by, or 
some little woolly heads from the quarters rushed 
around with shrieks of laughter, unheeded by Aunt 
Aurelia. Mrs. Stanwood was busy with housekeep- 
ing matters, coming out now and them to say a bright 
word. She had her husband and her children, and 
her future stretched out into their lives. Their love 
and service, their aims, and presently their marriages 
and the “children’s children,” would keep her in 
touch with the joy and sorrow of life. 


390 A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

And Dell’s future! 

Was it to be spent ministering to these elderly lives, 
and would she, in the years to come, grow old and 
lonely herself? 

She did not look much like it now with her gayety 
and freshness. Millicent watched her with a curious, 
new interest. There was a sweet, serene grace about 
her; yes, she had changed in some mysterious 
manner. 

Later in the afternoon, when the little one and the 
older ones had gone for their nap; and they were in 
the hammocks, where the shade was dense and the sun 
made an infrequent swift ripple through a waving 
branch, Millicent spoke of this. 

“Oh, do you think so?” cried Dell, her face alight 
with an emotion of gratitude. “I am trying.” Then 
she laughed a little. “Milly, Sherburne House has 
had so many phases to me. When I get fitted to one, 
another comes. Perhaps all of life is like that, and 
so people acquire the wide knowledges for the next 
one — the other country. I suppose God does send 
what he thinks best. It has puzzled me a good deal. 
We talk about the effort people ought to make, but if 
efforts lead them to be dissatisfied ” 

“The right effort cannot. We may not like some 
restriction of to-day, but instead of fretting at it we 
can be fitting ourselves for the next step. And a 
great many new things may come to you.” 

“I had a feeling I must go out after them. I began 
to despise the common little round, as it is called. 
And then I remembered St. Peter’s vision — there 
was nothing common. Tessy Murray makes them all 
divine. You do love her, Milly!” with a rather timid 
venture. 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 


391 


“We shall all end by adoring her to your heart’s 
content. I see a great many points where you and 
Leonard missed, and it is no detriment, either. But 
I hope something will come to you ’’ 

Dell flushed and turned her face away. 

“I suppose every girl dreams of these things at 
times,” she said tremulously. “But I have put it a 
long way off. I am going to take pleasure in the 
love and happiness of others. There is so much in 
the world, one needn’t be lonely unless one is very 
selfish. And I shall try not to be.” Then she 
laughed with a tiny, trembling break in it. “And if 
I am to follow Aunt Aurelia’s footsteps, and be Miss 
Sherburne for years to come, I want to make Sher- 
burne House just such a delightful household gather- 
ing place as she has. I hope you will all flock here 
with your children. Think how many there may be!” 

If a manly, earnest love were offered for her accept- 
ance! And someone stood ready to offer it. Then 
Millicent von Lindorm could not have raised a finger 
to hinder — had she really wanted to hinder? 

She could not even suggest the most impersonal 
possibility. These things were sacred to every young 
girl, and the bloom must not be rudely disturbed. 
So she began to talk of herself. 

“We ought to have some sort of gayety,” she said 
presently. “We might go to Fortress Monroe.” 

“Are growing restless,” Dell asked, with an arch 
smile. “I am quite content after all our excitements. 
No, let us just be quiet.” 

She could take her more into her own life. 

“Oh, ” Millicent began, “I had a letter from Bertram 
this morning!” Was it not rather ages ago? She 
seemed to have thought out so many things since then. 


392 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“Yes,” Dell said, breaking the long pause. A 
little pallor came up in her face. “Milly, 1 think you 

two ” What was it she meant to say? There was 

a great confusion in her soul. She must be brave 
enough to say it so that, when the real time came, she 
could refuse him with no weak longing. 

Millicent knew then. “We two have been friends 
always. You see, Bertram was like a brother to us.” 
Her voice was clear and untrembling. “No one 
could quite understand who had not seen it from the 
beginning. And he was so resolved that I should do 
something worth while when he learned that I could 
write. I owe him so much ! I do not believe I could 
have found my way out alone. I hope we shall go on 
being friends all our lives. But it does depend a good 
deal on the kind of woman he marries. I hope it will 
be someone we can take in with ourselves." 

The soft summer wind made songs as it kissed the 
leaves, and there was no other sound to break the 
silence. Dell’s lips moved, but there were no words. 
Had it been a mistake; was Millicent’s heart a sweet 
ghost wandering there at Naples, and all these things 
her own jealous imaginings? 

“I do not know — who would be worthy,” she said, 
with great humiliation. 

“That is for Bertram to decide.” 

“Do you know, Milly,” and Dell’s voice was shaken 
with an emotion she was trying to crowd down, “we 
have had so much to do with lovers that our minds 
run naturally to the subject. We must turn over a 
new leaf. Study, I believe, is a good antidote.” 

Millicent gave a tender little laugh, and the two 
lapsed into silence again. 

Had she dreamed of any new passion coming into 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 


393 


her life? She could not quite tell with truth. She 
did not want to pry into the secrets of her own soul. 
It was enough that here and now she relinquished all 
but the purest friendship. There had never been any 
lover’s caresses; there was nothing one could not 
remember with clear, exalted sight. Perhaps he had 
held back for Leonard’s sake; she almost knew that it 
was so. 

“We might practice duets; we used to play so well 
together. I miss Violet in the music.” 

“Yes,” Dell answered. 

Aunt Julia came out leading Nora by the hand, 
dewy-eyed, and with the exquisite pink of childhood’s 
slumber still in her face. Millicent sprang up and 
clasped her to the throbbing mother-heart. 

Some neighbors dropped in, and they kept Milly 
to tea. Then Uncle Beaumanoir drove over for her. 

In the evening, when everybody had retired, Milly 
answered her letter. “I shall be impatient for you to 
come and ask your own question,” was all she said 
in answer to Bertram’s reference to future hopes. 

But Lyndell could not settle her side so easily. She 
half said to herself she ought not to be so glad, that 
there would be many grave points to consider in her 
life. She did owe a duty to Sherburne House. 

Some guests came to Beaumanoir, and there were 
various pleasure excursions, in which Lyndell was 
gladly included. Millicent watched the young girl 
with a new and peculiar interest. Why had she never 
thought of this possibility — for truly she had not. 
Dell had never leaned largely to lovers and sentiment. 
Was this why there had been a reserve of her most 
sacred feelings in Leonard’s case? How blind she 
had been ; perhaps a little selfish, as well, in appro- 


394 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


priating Bertram so much! She recalled the birthday 
party, and how much he had talked about Dell that 
evening, little remembrances of her efforts, and all she 
had gained in love and appreciation. Ah, yes! it had 
been an almost fatal blindness; only the wise All 
Father had them in his keeping, and they could not 
go very far astray. So many small incidents flashed 
through her mind, shaming her cousinly affection. 
Perhaps she had been too much engrossed with her 
own affairs, as her father had feared for her. There 
was danger. She was not so sure but that she needed 
to watch and pray against temptation. 

Not that there would be any possibility of longing or 
envying. In the past Bertram had seemed very young 
to her, and she knew now her own love had kept her 
from any thought of him. On her return she had 
been surprised at the full stature of the man, of the 
development of his powers, the quality that was posi- 
tive genius. He had gone so far beyond her that he 
was the leading spirit in the new friendship. She did 
not deny to herself that his wife would be a well-loved 
woman and appreciated to the finest fiber of her being. 
And Dell would be worthy of it. 

But Lyndell still put it aside. It seemed too great 
a thing to dream over. She had so trained herself to 
repression that after the first delicious flood of possi- 
bility she looked steadily at the other view. There 
would be much to give up — the gain of years, the 
earnest endeavor of womanhood. 

From that Sunday evening Dr. Carew had spoken 
so incautiously, he had been gravely silent. She half 
imagined she had dreamed the startling scene. And 
though Millicent was tenderly sweet, she talked less 
about him. 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 


395 


They had many things to absorb their attention in 
the forthcoming book and a journey to New York, 
where they were both warmly welcomed by the 
Murrays. Leonard was impatiently pleading for a 
marriage in the autumn. 

“We shall not be grand people,” he said. “We 
can live very comfortably on my income ; and when we 
want anything wonderful in the way- of luxury we will 
go down to Sherburne House and envy its mistress.” 

“We will do no such thing!” And Tessy put her 
arms about Dell’s neck. “You can only believe half 
of what Leonard says.” 

“Which half?” he asked. “That is of importance 
to me.” 

They all laughed at that. 

Then the grand ball at West Point called them 
thither. Fanny Beaumanoir, who had graduated with 
the honor of the most beautiful gown in the class, 
joined them for this festivity. Archie had passed 
honorable examinations, and was qualified to do his 
country service whenever called upon. They went 
on to Narragansett Pier, where they were to leave 
Fanny with some of the Floyd relatives, and took 
various little trips around. 

The Murray boys had been sent out to a farm for 
a while, but their mother was quite satisfied with the 
comfort of her own home, and begged to remain. 
There seemed so much excitement all the time. Milly 
and Dell returned thither for a few days, that 
appeared to stretch themselves out indefinitely while 
they were planning for the last of the summer. 

“We have been almost everywhere,” said Dell, in 
an amusingly disconsolate tone; “unless we go to 
Alaska and the Western coast,” 


396 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


“Oh, don’t!” cried Tessy, clinging to her. 

“No, I want to save something for middle life, 
something for old age. I should hate to have days 
come when I had to say ‘I had no pleasure in them.’ ” 

“Oh, wiser than Soloman!” cried Leonard 
teasingly. 

“I should like to have a better wisdom than some 
of his,” reiterated Dell. “Even Aunt Aurelia is not 
saying all is vanity or disappointment.” 

They seemed to be waiting for some mysterious 
happening, Lyndell thought. There were whispered 
consultations, much perusing of newspapers, and one 
afternoon Leonard rushed up and carried off Con. 
It was quite in the evening when they returned. 
Only Millicent was down in the drawing room, and 
for some moments there was an eager, surprised talk- 
ing, the voices curiously mingled. 

“Dell!” Milly called softly. 

She went slowly down. “Who is it?” as Milly 
took her in her arms and kissed her. 

“An old friend. He wants to see you. Oh, Dell! 
do not allow any foolish scruple to keep you from 
happiness.” 

The low whisper had hardly died in her ear when 
she stood in the room, alone, she thought wonder- 
ingly at first, in the dim light. But a tall figure came 
forward and took both hands. 

“Dell, my darling, I have surprised everybody by 
coming home before the time. But I was well, and 
Europe held no charm for me compared to the dream 
I longed to make a blessed reality. A hundred times 
'arday I wanted to hear your voice, to see your face, 
to, read the story in your eyes. And now I can only 
take one answer; I am not generous enough to give 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 397 

you a choice. My sweet darling, will you say it? I 
know you do not love anyone else." 

She could hardly breathe in the clasp so uncon- 
sciously tight. He could feel her heart throb against 
his. 

“Oh," she sighed, “can I — ought I " and the 

voice faltered and fell to the faintest sound, delicious 
in its very uncertainty. 

“That isn’t the answer at all. It is whether you 
love me? Whether you are willing to take me and all 
my life holds — sorrows, joys, work, maybe illness and 
care. Does it look promising for a young girl fortu- 
nate in some of the world’s best gifts? And to have in 
return a man’s highest love and endeavors. Dell, if 
you have not learned this lesson, will you try?" 

Did she need to try? For months she had been 
fighting against it. Could she let herself go? 

“Dell ’’ 

“I love you,” she answered simply. Then she hid 
her hot, blushing face on his shoulder. 

He lifted it and kissed it. Her hand held the first 
kiss he had ever given her, ever given any woman 
with love’s sign and seal. They stood in blissful 
silence. Oh, was it true? 

She was first to break it. The old doubts resolved 
themselves strenuously. 

“Oh, if you can understand!” she cried, in a half 
appealing tone. “I seem to belong to Sherburne 
House. I have been trying to make my father’s 
home, and Aunt Aurelia’s care, the great motives of 
my life. Have I a right to throw them up for any 
purely personal gratification?” 

“Have I no right to be considered? ‘For this 
cause,’ Lyndell,” and his voice held a sweet, sacred 


39 ^ A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 

solemnity. “The story is almost as old as the world, 
yet it holds in it the essence of all the sacrifices that 
have ever been, it has the same struggle to any tender, 
conscientious soul. And I am not sure but Sherburne 
House, lovely as it is, has been a b^te noire to most of 
us. I have wished many a time you were not a 
daughter of the house; yet, if you had not been, my 
father would have missed one of the sweetest experi- 
ences of his life.” 

Ah ! she knew she had been a great deal to Dr. 
Carew. 

“It nearly wrecked Leonard” — he was smiling a 
little now, you could discern it in his full voice — “and 
it has brought many trials to you besides that great 
generous, misguided effort that the wise Father above 
frustrated. And it does stand between us. When I 
first began to think of you and all the wealth that 
would be yours, I said I could never ask the Sher- 
burne heiress to marry me.” 

“Oh!” she gave a little cry, and seemed to hold 
herself closer to his heart. 

“It was Leonard's right and opportunity. And 
when the difference happened between you I should 
have come forward at once, but for this cause. Then 
I fancied it would be made up. Dell, it was the pang 
of my life. He did not know how to win your best 
love, he had not the key to your heart and soul and 
brain. But I was amazed when I found Tessy Murray 
had captured this big, handsome, self-engrossed 
fellow and brought out what was noblest in him. I 
think it strikes us all as a bit of curious poetical 
justice. Only, Dell — I wonder what you would give 
up for the man you love? For he would rather take 
you without it.” 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 


399 


He held up her face, full of blushes and tears. 

“Oh!” she cried, “you do not mean Sherburne 
House?” 

It was too great a sacrifice. But his voice was very 
tender as he said, in a half-smothered tone: 

“You would have to come to me. I could not go 
there to you. It is not the sphere in which I could 
do my best work. Yet it will always have some dear 
associations for me.” 

She drew a long, quivering breath. 

“If you think I might — give it away ” Her 

voice was like a timid child’s, and thrilled him with 
the deliciousness of its abandonment. 

“Would you like — my darling? This is a matter 
that concerns you deeply. But without it you still 
have twice too much for me. A man’s pride is in 
caring for his wife, in providing for her; an old- 
fashioned doctrine, perhaps, but not quite obsolete.” 

He laughed in a wholesome, hearty fashion. 

“Leonard loves it so much,” and her voice had a 
beguiling inflection. “He was brave, to relinquish the 
dream of his life. And Tessy seems to fit in there. 
She isn’t a city girl at all, nor a modern girl, nor a 
striving intellectual girl, while she has a wide intelli- 
gence and a keen appreciation of all beautiful thoughts 
and things, and what is quite uncommon — a love for 
and a rare knowledge of how to make old people 
happy. I am afraid I shall always be too young, too 
strenuous. Mr. Whittingham explained to me the 
other day about making a will. ’ ’ Her voice fell a little. 
“He said if I had any choice of how the property was 
to go — that it would not make me die any sooner,” 
and she gave a nervous little laugh. “I thought then 
I might live to be old and spend my days there, and if 


400 A SHEkBURI^E EOMAATCE. 

it was left alone some time I should like to think of 
Tessy and Leonard there. And if, like my great- 
grandfather, I bequeathed it to them, their heirs and 
assigns forever ” 

“Then you had thought of it! My darling, if you 

did it a few years sooner Come and sit down. 

What a careless fellow I am to keep you standing all 
this while ! “ 

“And for all those years of Mr. Murray’s care he 
would take no remuneration.” 

“Yes, I heard about the check;” and he smiled as 
he settled her on the sofa, still keeping his arm about 
her. “Mr. Murray has much grandeur of character. 
And now that bugbear is disposed of for the present, 
I must talk about myself. Did you wonder I did not 
write to you? I began oceans of letters. If we had 
been confessed lovers — but we were not, and I thought 
of the scruples you were given to conjuring up. You 
have a certain morbid strenuousness. And I wanted 
the freshness of the confession as one wants the dew 
on the rose and the bloom on the grape, the touch of 
the hand, the giving and delicate withholding that 
speaks in the eye and the wavering light and shadow 
on the cheek. No mere letter can express it.” 

She was glad it had not come any sooner. It had 
been a rich, beautiful summer to her. 

“Oh, Dell! do you remember the first time I saw 
you, when you put your soft, girlish fingers over my 
eyes? I hope you haven’t forgotten the trick.” He 
stopped to press them to his lips. “I had heard so 
much about the little Sherburne girl. And I think I 
fell in love with you early one glorious morning. You 
rode over to Beaumanoir to inquire about Leonard, 
when we had the first hope. How we all fought for 


A GOLDEN SUMMER. 


401 


his life, and I think he will do us credit in the end ! 
I’ve always carried those two pictures about with me. 
I should have kept them if I never had gained any 
right to the others: the older, proud, sweet girl — the 
wife you will be in my home, if it please God to spare 
us until that blessed time. And I wonder when you 
began to care for me?” 

Should she tell him all those fond, foolish struggles, 
the denials, the resolves, the renunciation at last of the 
love itself, and keeping only an unsullied remem- 
brance? For to lovers love’s confession has a rare 
sweetness of Heaven’s own giving. No other hours 
have the delicious intoxication of that first unalloyed 
draught. And Lyndell Sherburne’s strong, sweet 
nature had much to give. It could give endlessly and 
suffer no diminution. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE MISTRESS OF SHERBURNE HOUSE. 

will be killed with lovers, Mamma Murray!” 

1 Dell Sherburne said to her foster-mother a day or 
two after. Bertram Carew haunted the house as well 
as Leonard. He had cut his holiday abroad a month 
short, but he meant to keep it all the same, though his 
heart yearned over the suffering and neglect it was his 
business to fight. But for two summers through heat 
and fatigue he had stood at his post, and he had been 
learning a little lesson for himself, that God did not 
require unwisdom in one’s efforts. 

And now there was a new hope to his life. Some 
one else could justly demand a little carefulness. 

Everybody was glad with an exquisite, unfeigned 
joy. Even Mr. Murray was more than satisfied. If 
they must lose Tessy their other daughter would come 
back to them, and he felt a little ache for Miss Sher- 
burne’s loss. 

Mamma Murray seemed to be the needed central 
figure. They were really glad sharp, teasing, satirical 
Morna was away. Con gave Dell the warmest con- 
gratulations. 

“You have the best and noblest fellow in the world,” 
he declared enthusiastically. “Though I did hope ten 
years from this time, when I had gathered up the wis- 
dom and the riches and the experience of the world, 
that I should come down to Sherburne House and 


402 


THE MISTRESS OF SHERBURNE HOUSE. 403 


insist upon your marrying me. Miss Aurelia would be 
so old by that time it couldn’t make much difference 
who ruled at Sherburne House. And I have lost my 
golden chance, that only comes once in a man’s life- 
time. I shall go mourning all my days.” 

“But you can wait ten years before you begin to 
mourn,” returned Dell mischievously, “since that is 
your own date.” 

“And the Murrays will get you back again! Think 
of that, and weep!” 

‘ Ts it a subject for tears?” 

“On the other side.” He made an odd, mirthful 
face. “Yet if they miss you as we did,” and his voice 
fell to a soft, endearing cadence, “it will be heart- 
breaking.” 

They would be sorry to let her go. Dell knew 
that. 

Millicent’s heartfelt congratulations had been a 
deep and satisfying comfort to Dell. She had not 
gone so far as to imagine any asking love. She had 
only to give up the sweet consciousness of being first, 
but had she been first all these years? 

Leonard declared he was like the knights of olden 
romance; he had sat down to besiege the castle, and he 
would remain until it capitulated. It did eventually. 
Tessy said Christmas at first, but days and weeks were 
pared off until the wedding was agreed upon for 
October. Then Dell, Millicent, and Bertram started 
homeward. 

“We shall not hurry,” he said, with shining eyes; 
“for we have just begun as lovers, and we want all the 
sweetness the cup holds. I think Aunt Aurelia will 
be more lenient if she knows I am willing to wait 
a while.” 


404 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


Had they been away years? Even Ardmore looked 
strange to her bewildered sight. 

They put Millicent in the Beaumanoir carriage, 
and said a brief good-by to her. It was not far to the 
doctor’s, but they loitered on the way in the late 
summer afternoon, and when they reached the old 
house they saw him winding slowly around the curve 
in the shrubbery. So they hurried in. 

Here in the old office, where she had crept in and 
blindfolded his eyes! “I was sitting here,” he said, 
kissing her. “You were a pretty young girl even 
then, and my father always declared you would make 
a beautiful woman.” 

“He taught me how to make myself beautiful.” 
There were fond tears shining in her eyes. 

A stout figure, a little bowed, stood in the doorway. 
The hair had grown whiter, the wrinkles deeper, but 
the eyes were tender and merry and full of love. 

“I’ve brought her to you, first of all,” began Ber- 
tram, in a voice freighted with emotion. “We two 
are to own her and share her love, but I have the 
largest share, just as I have taken the best and most 
of everything all my life.” 

Dr. Carew .clasped her in his arms. “Papa,” she 
cried, “lam to be the daughter of your love!” and there 
was a soft, happy sob in her voice, the tumult of joy. 

The daughter he had coveted, his son’s wife! He 
gave her a long, fond kiss in satisfied silence. 

Bertram brought Aunt Neale in to share their joy. 
They would fain have kept her to tea, but she felt 
they would be awaiting her at Sherburne House. 

They were indeed glad to welcome her, and Ber- 
tram, who looked quite unlike the pale, thin fellow 
who, as Con had said, was the ghost of the April feast. 


THE MISTRESS OF SHERBURNE HOUSE. 405 

There was so much to tell that no one thought of 
the new story that they might have read in the fair, 
blushing face, and the sun-browned, enraptured one. 

However, it told itself the next day to everyone’s 
surprise. 

“But I shall not go away for a long, long time,” 
she said to Aunt Aurelia, when they talked it over 
between themselves. 

The loveliest word of all was from Uncle Beau- 
manoir. 

“I don’t believe I could have given you up to any- 
one else,” he said, much moved by the tidings. “We 
have always felt Bertram was very near and dear to 
us for saving Leonard. And we have always been 
proud of him. My child, I am glad this love has 
come to you. Only it must take you away from us.” 

“Never in heart and in affection,” she made 
answer. 

From thence she went to Mr. Whittingham’s office. 
She even insisted upon excluding Spencer from the 
interview. 

“I have made my will,” she cried, with a dazzling, 
dancing light in her eyes. “And now you must sign 
and seal it.” 

“I hope you took counsel with your uncle?” 

“No, I have not. I only took counsel with — with 
my lover,” and she colored bewitchingly. “And he 
is so afraid my courage will fail, he gives me no 
peace.” 

“Your lover!” The old man was amazed. “I 
hope you have not been overpersuaded,” in a sudden 
alarm. “This is a serious matter.” 

She stopped teasing and. laid her plan before him. 

“You don’t mean that Bertram Carew is willing 


4o6 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


that you should give up this handsome old estate 
now/' he ejaculated, in the utmost surprise. 

“Oh, he is really eager for me to do it.” 

“He is very generous, very ! But don’t let him give 
all your money away.” 

“That is to be tied up very securely on myself. 
And now you must advise me. Uncle Beaumanoir 
will object. Aunt Aurelia may feel hurt. Every- 
body will be surprised. I want to do it as quietly 
as possible. I would rather not do anything until 
the right moment comes.” 

“There, child, I must think it over. But you may 
have children of your own.” 

“They could not be reared at Sherburne House,” 
she said, with rising color. 

“To deed it to him — with no conditions?” The 
old man stared at her. 

“To him and his wife, as she will be then, and to his 
children. I can’t tie it up any further, ” and she smiled. 
“I should like him to take the Sherburne name.” 

“Yes, he ought, he must. Come in a week or so 
hence. You may change your mind.” 

“No, I shall not change it.” Her face was lovely 
in its proud decision. 

“It would be very just and noble if you ” 

“I am not going to wait for old age or death to do 
my work of love. I want to enjoy it while I am here.” 

“Well, well, well! I think I had better see your 
uncle!” Mr. Whittingham declared, after some con- 
sideration. 

Mr. Beaumanoir was very decided, absolutely 
strenuous in his objections. 

“The whole county will believe we have actuall}r 
wrested this from you,” he said indignantly. 


THE MIS TEE SS OF SHERBURNE HOUSE. 4^7 

“No one who has known you would even suggest 
such an idea,” replied Dell spiritedly. “Do you 
not see someone must have it who will keep it up out 
of pure love? I could not hire anyone to do that. 
And it will be a part of Aunt Aurelia's dream come 
true. Of course Leonard will not be able to remain 
there all the time for some years to come, but now 
Aunt Aurelia is still quite strong. You will make her 
happy; think of that! And if it is my wedding gift to 
Tessy and Leonard!” 

She was so happy herself in these days, so winsome 
and loving, that they could deny her nothing. A 
pretty air of authority that really ruled very little but 
sat graciously upon her, and a sweet, generous inter- 
est in all things bound them more closely to her. 
But Dr. Carew’s affection had a sacred nearness for 
her. Never had they talked over the old times more 
delightedly. 

Millicent was beginning to reap the publicity of her 
sudden fame, rather to her father’s disgust. Yet there 
were some charming pilgrims who found their way to 
Beaumanoir, and Lyndell enjoyed meeting them. 

Another event that gave her great satisfaction was 
the rather unexpected dibut of Anita Garcia, first at 
Milan, then at Florence. In certain roles her voice 
was pronounced marvelous. She wrote to Dell full 
of joyous intoxication at her triumph, and with a 
tender gratitude hardly expected. 

“The days do go so fast,” Dell complained one 
morning. “And now Milly and I will have to go up 
to New York and supervise this wonderful wedding. 
The bride, it would seem, has nothing to say about it. 
Leonard has decided on a church wedding with all the 
attendant splendor. And Fanny, it seems, can be the 


4o8 


A SHERBURNE ROMANCE. 


only Sherburne bridesmaid, lest the bride will be 
dwarfed. But the maids and the ushers are to stand 
around, and we are to be in superb gowns and every- 
thing.” 

Fanny Beaumanoir was much elated, and really fell 
in love with the Murrays. Aunt Aurelia and Cousin 
Carrick made the journey, and even Mr. and Mrs. 
Longworth graced the occasion with their presence. 
It was a pretty wedding with a two hours* reception, 
and the bridegroom looked serenely triumphant. 

They stayed for a little visit with Mrs. Murray 
while the two went out on their journey, that was to 
take in various places and end at Sherburne House. 
Dell took Morna home with her, and she was to have 
a bit of Washington later on, under Tessy’s matronly 
wing. And though the little mother said good-by 
with tears in her soft, shining eyes, she would not 
have them less happy than herself, since it was God’s 
hallowed way. 

It was magnificent October weather, and it lapsed 
over into November, bringing the young bride home 
amid floods of sunshine and tender greetings. They 
had a grand family party at Beaumanoir, and the next 
night one at Sherburne, with only the nearest and 
dearest friends. 

Leonard brought his pretty bride out in her white 
wedding gown and the quaint rubies Aunt Aurelia had 
sent her, to grace the head of the table. She had a 
faint, exquisite touch of foreignness, and a lovely 
dignity that made her taller than her inches. 

Mr. Whittingham stepped forward. “In behalf of 
Miss Honora Lyndell Sherburne, I am empowered to 
present a wedding gift to Mr. and Mrs. Leonard 
Beaumanoir,” he began. “That no one may remain 


THE MISTRESS OF SHERBURNE HOUSE. 409 


in ignorance of the gift or its conditions, I will give 
myself the pleasure of reading it aloud ; merely pre- 
mising that it has the full assent of Miss Sherburne’s 
trustees. ’ ’ 

They listened curiously at first, then with intense 
emotion. Sherburne House and estate, with all per- 
taining to it except some certain plate and household 
adornments, to Leonard Beaumanoir and his wife, 
Tessy Murray Beaumanoir, and their heirs and assigns 
forever; chargeable with the life interest of Aurelia 
Sherburne and Eliza Carrick. 

There was a strange silence, and all eyes were turned 
on Lyndell. 

Leonard came around. “Oh, how could you!’’ 
he cried, with intensity. “How could you all allow 
her to do it? Bertram, you surely have something to 
say ! ’ ’ 

“I said it the first night of my engagement. We 
both decided. Oh, we have taken almost three 
months to it!’’ with a bright, heartsome laugh. “We 
have not been over-hasty. And I hope, we both 
hope, you will enjoy rare happiness under its roof.’’ 

Dell put her arms around Tessy and kissed her with 
a full heart. It seemed the most blessed moment of 
her whole life. Then she turned her around to face 
everybody, and glancing out of luminous, satisfied 
eyes, said a little tremulously: 

“The new mistress of Sherburne House!’’ 


THE END. 


XI ?- 








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